Glamours
by butterburfieldfairy
Summary: Set a year after the grand fight with Valentine,it is time for Clary to return to Alicante. For what? her mother's wedding of course! Everyone seems to have their happy ending,Clay included,but she wonders why Amatis still seems alone:FULL SUMMARY INSIDE:
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my first fanfiction that I actually plan on posting so forgive me if it sucks since I LITERALLY made it at the brink of dawn ;D**

**Read And Review so I can Continue! (it rhymes! it rhymes! heehee!)**

**Summary:  
**Set a year after the grand fight with Valentine, it is time for Clary to return to Alicante. For what? her mother's wedding of course! Everyone seems to have their happily ever after,Clay included, but she wonders why Amatis still seems alone. And after having a strange dream about her past, only intensifies her want to crack the code on why Amatis and Stephen HErondale's fairy tale love story was cut off a little too short.

**(this story sort of dwells on that concept...i think..just read and review because I'm totally a jitter head right now..all my thoughts are scribbled in little tiny note pads! T.T)**

**Disclaimer: If TMI was mine, I wouldnt have to make a disclaimer but nooo. T.T**

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**Glamours;  
**_a spell or energy of illusion used to hide or disguise beings._

If it were not for the illumination coming from the lights of colorful candles set all around, the Halls of the Accords would have been as dark as the muddy waters. She emerged from the lowly steps, a beauty dressed in a long silver gown. The silky material was accented with glitters that shimmered endlessly against the bright glow of the night's festivities. But no luminous dress could out shine the smile that breached those sweet and young lips, when her bright eyes caught sight of her lover. He made no gesture, or wave of any sort. But his eyes alone told all he needed to say. She made an effort to walk towards him, determined not to trip or make a fool of herself especially in front of so many nephilim that seemed to have been born with poise and grace. He, as expected, sauntered over to her with a fluid like grace, incomparable to most. Oh, such love glittered in those golden eyes. They burned with a passion for her, she hoped would never fade away just as her own would remain unmoving. He surprised her by bending down, (and in front of everyone too!) only to take out a single velvet box from his pocket and with his eyes never leaving hers, he said exactly what his orbs had been saying, time and time again.

"I love you," He seemed exasperated. "Marry me, and spend the rest of our lives with me."

She remembered scanning the sea of now crowding people, remembered seeing his family holding their breaths waiting for her reply. And when she did, she had said every word as if it was a separate part of each sentence.

"Yes," she found herself in a state of complete and utter joy. "Yes, of course, Stephen."

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Clary awoke with a feeling of lightheadedness. She was wondering about three things: First, why her dream seemed so different from all the others; second, why the ground was moving; and third, why her pillow seemed attached to an arm, a neck, and a body.

The answer to Clary-wonders-why question number three said, amusedly, "Welcome back to the land of the living, sleepy head."  
It was Jace who pulled her upright since she was basically leaning on him.

It would have been a total Jace-Clary moment but then a voice piped in, his tone indignant and offended. "Yeah, sure, ignore the semi-living."

If you haven't guessed it yet, that was Simon.

"Exactly," Jace started, burying his hands into Clary's messed-from-sleep hair. "What I'm going to do, Vampy-mundane."

_Oh god_, Clary rolled her eyes, unseen by both males. _I'm way too tired to scold these idiots,_ She thought.

"And this is why," a familiar, strong, feminine voice said with pride. "the female race is said to be the more mature species." It was Isabelle Lightwood.

Clary realized that she was in a car; which totally explained Clary-wonders-why question number two. It was most probably that Alec and Magnus left ahead of them to Alicante since there was no one in passenger's seat, or to her right. Clary craned her head and saw that Izzy was seated beside Simon at the back, beside him was Maia, and beside her were bags and luggages. The answer to Clary-wonders-why question number three would be sitting beside her left, as we speak. She glanced to her side and caught Jace plotting with Simon on finding a good come back at Isabelle's gender retort, though he idly toyed with her hair; a gesture she was well used to by now. It has been, what, a year since the final fight with Valentine; a year since her mother has learned to let go and decide to live a normal life back in New York again; a year since she has been allowed to train as a shadowhunter at the Institute. To train with Jace.

The answer to Clary-wonders-why question number one never came. Why had she dreamed such a dream would not be her problem, since she was already used to having whacked out premonitions but what confused her was that it was not a premonition but a flashback. Her mind had conjured up a scene of a romantic memory; a romantic memory that Clary knew, no longer existed. She dreamed of Amatis, and reminisced on how beautiful she appeared in the same gown Clary had used during that celebration night in Alicante. Strangely, it was also in the same place, and with a man who reminded her so much of her own.

Clary caught his naughty smile, and Simon whispered something into his ear. They were partners in crime now, the two idiots. You could barely tell that before, they practically wanted to rip each other's guts out, piece by piece, limb by limb. Clary gave a soft laugh, deciding to brush off the strange new dream aside, when both egotistical men high fived then Jace said, "Yeah, the most brutal race, too."

"I second the notion." Simon supported, remembering how Maia and Isabelle glare at each other like a bunch of Viking priestesses.

Apparently, Clary mused, they had basically scripted this.

Izzy narrowed her eyes at them both, but they especially lingered on her brother. Jace met her gaze with just as much challenge, and let's face it; Jace isn't the type to lose in a Poker face game.

Izzy, refusing to admit defeat just yet, turned on her best card: the girlfriend card.

"Clary!" Clary was surprised she became a part of this ridiculous feud. "Control your man!"

"She can't," Jace was nowhere near desperation; the speed of his caress on her hair never lost its synchronization. He said with a smirk, "She likes me wild."

"I like you quiet," Clary broke the contact between them by moving away from him to stare at him in the eyes. This would have been the first time they had direct eye contact since Clary had woken up and this stirred a lot of emotions in her, and sparked an unknown feeling in them both. They have been together ever since the party in Alicante, set exactly a year and six months ago, and since Clary now officially lived in the Institute, they saw each other almost daily. But why did it feel like it wasn't enough?

Nothing could ever fill those gaps their relationship took when they believed that they were siblings; nothing could ever let them take back those moments that could have been spent loving each other, but instead made them drift apart, honestly thinking it was sinful.

She leaned back on him, after a few seconds of seeing him agonizing over the fact that his hands were not touching anything Clary .She always did have a problem when it came to resisting Jace. "How long was I out?" she asked, her head in that space between his neck.

"Oh not long," He drew his arm around her. "According to my numb shoulder, you've been asleep for three hours."

Clary pouted, but she moved closer to him, suddenly needing body contact. But her voice was leveled, and just a bit annoyed. "And we're still not there yet?"

"Good things come to those who wait, my child." Clary rolled her eyes at Simon. Ever since he found out it wasn't "Good things come to those who do the wave" he has been constantly blurting out the quote at the most circumstantial moments.

"Yes, I'll have to agree with Yoda on this one, Clary." Jace said, then kissed her head as if a kiss could bribe her into believing it. Clary felt that she deserved points for only half falling into the trap.

Jace gently parted his lips from her head and whispered, "Can't wait to get rid of me?" he taunted.

"I can't wait to be rid of them," Clary gestured to those behind them. They made aloud indignant scoff at the same time. "Jace," Clary said, but she was looking at those at the back. "It is impossible to be with you when they're around to sigh and make snide side comments." Clary explained.

"But you like people who make snide side comments, don't you?" Jace inquired, interested to know her reply.

She looked at him, and damn him and that ability he has of raising an eyebrow and she cant! "I'm in love with you, aren't I?" she stated it as a fact, and no one could deny that.

"Well, there's that." Jace's eyes were beaming with approval of her reply; more than approval in fact, he practically adored the response. He brought his hands to her hair again; it was one of those kinds of things he did whenever there were too many people around for him to do something more intimate. The feeling still brought Clary over the moon up till now. He brought his lips to her head again. And breathing in a sigh, he said, "You're more beautiful when your hair is long," His lips trailed down to her ear. It sent shivers of delight down her spine. "You shouldn't cut it like you're planning to."

Clary snuggled closer to him; it was amazing how they fit perfectly into each other's arms despite being so different physically.

"My hair; my rules" said Clary.

"..And MY eyes!" It was Isabelle. "You two," She pointed from Jace to Clary. "get a room!"

"Preferably one that isn't this one!" Maia pointed accusingly at Jace. She never blames Clary; just Jace. This wasn't something that bothered Jace; he even found it amusing and constantly tried break her shell. Truly, it wasn't hard to like Jace; he was nice enough and he seemed very family oriented. Maia didn't truly dislike Jace, it was just that he reminded her so much of her dead brother who once tortured her so much. Well, Jace does have that wicked aura around him, but it was not an evil kind of wickedness, Clary mused.

Clary's cheeks flushed at the thought (A/N: eek! Implied! :D).

Jace looked at Simon who was making no effort in hiding the gag face he was making. Jace said, "Sure, throw out the only male in this vehicle with you who will stand alongside you in the battle of the genders."

Simon gave a long dreamy smile as a response. "Battle of the Genders: That would be an awesome song title."

"Let the dream die peacefully, Lewis." Clary felt it was payback since Simon had called her Fray many times in the past.

He narrowed her eyes at her, and spoke in a bad-ass-like tone he must have learned from watching too much anime again. "You 'aint the boss of me!" his gaze shifted to Jace. "Tell her she 'aint the boss of me!"

"I would," Jace sounded remorseful as he gestured to Clary as if she were a flesh-eating cougar. "But then I'd have to die."

"We are within meters from Alicante." A new voice interrupted the ocean of laughing teenagers. It was the driver informing them they were near.

Clary suddenly felt her head spinning and her knees giving in.

"Ooh! I should text Alec; inform him and Magnus we're close. They're probably waiting at the Gard, by now." Isabelle didn't skip a beat; she seemed excited.

Jace's hands slowly rubbed up and down Clary's shoulders. She looked at him, and he noticed she was bone white.

"Getting goose bumps?" His eyes were deep with concern.

"Yes," Clary didn't see the point in pretending not to with Jace; he always knew her inside and out. "It's not everyday I get to be in my mom's wedding."

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**A/N: I will agree to continue this story if people review mee! ;D;D Did you like it? DId you hate it? please please please gimme your feedbacks so I can improve! Read and review ppol! please and thank you!**

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	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:  
**Well, I'm totally new to this whole online posting thing, but I made it!  
HEre it is folks, the very boring and transition like Chapter2!

I'd like to say thank you loads reviewers, without any of you, I wouldnt even think of finishing this story! (Really! I wouldnt!)  
Keep the love coming! and if there is some hate, well, it's welcomed to! ;D As long as you keep it in a constructive criticism sort of format.  
I always welcome me some constructive criticism.

I'm totally sorry if this story has a wide variety of VERY over the top facts that wouldnt even make any sense (like for example, I make Jace have laptop, or Alec with an Ipod...or Simon with neon hair. HEy! My brain isnt exactly normal in said sense) SO feel free to remind me time to time that I need to keep my feet on the ground.  
Especially with the locations and the characters.

I hope this fic isnt an OOC fic; I abhor myself whenever I do such a thing. I like keeping my characters in their own personalities ( but that doesnt mean I dont love reading them in OOC. It is way too amusing! heehee)

Well, that's all I want to say. :D Keep the review flowing ok? Or else this little idiot will not finish the plot because it sucks!

"Forgiving grammar is a saintly act, deserving of high praise!" -thelittlefray

**Disclaimer: This is the REMAKE of the chappie since the first one sucked like major blah (i kept changing povs and it seemed to confuse people) unfortunately, i dont know if i made it any better now, than it was before. :D But hey, i tried, so here it is! :D (Glamours Chappie 2... once again!**

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**Glamours;  
**_a spell or energy of illusion used to hide or disguise beings._

"What if they had an accident? What if Clary got road sick? She never has before but it's never a bad time to start! She's traveling with other kids; they're without parental supervision; they're…"

"…going to be fine," Luke Graymark slowly ran a hand up and down Jocelyn's arm; an arm that was now pulsing with nerves and jitters.

"Relax," he cooed. "She's not going to get road sick. And note that those so called 'kids' are the ones who fought against Valentine; head long might I add, a year ago." He felt the tension in her arm grow softer.

"I think they can fend for themselves." He said, fully believing his words.

She spun around, now facing those calm eyes with her own fairly anxious ones. She had been pacing around the Gard for nearly an hour and a half now. "But what if…"

"…she gets bored?" Luke theorized, and with a smirk he said, "Jace is with her. I'm sure she'll get plenty of entertainment out of that."

Her reaction was priceless, the man mused. Her words were, even more.

"This isn't a laughing matter, Luke!" Jocelyn cried. "They're 30 seconds late!"

There was no stopping it now; the compelling urge to laugh was overwhelming but he shut up for his own sake. A woman such as Jocelyn was not to be challenged in battle, especially when she was in that very over protective paranoid state of mind. Luke found that strangely attractive in a woman; but particularly this woman.

It took about a few seconds for Jocelyn to realize how insane she must have sounded, and trying to appear in control, she said, "ok, that did sound a bit crazy but it's _not_." She tried to make sense of those words, and she realized that they sounded way better in her head than out loud.

She was already ready to crawl into her hole of embarrassment the minute Luke laughed, but strangely he didn't. Luke took her in his arms and held her close. And as he was pressing his lips to her head, Jocelyn remembered why she loved this man, and why she was planning on spending the rest of her life with him.

"I know you're not," His voice was low and comforting. "You're just overprotective and maybe a little tense. And I'm pretty sure that has something to do with the upcoming wedding."

"No it doesn't." she bluffed.

"Jocelyn," The man was like a living breathing lie detector, Jocelyn thought.

"Maybe a little," Jocelyn acknowledged her nervousness. She hasn't been together with a man ever since Clary's father, Valentine. She loved Luke immensely, maybe longer than she realized, but the thought of remarrying after so long just made her want to run away. But she knew that the only place she were ever to run to, if she ever does, were into Luke's arms.

He kissed her forehead, staring into the distant areas of the Gard. They were awaiting Clary and the other shadow hunters and he smiled to himself when he noticed some men beckoning for the wards to be put down on the main gate. It brought a certain light unto his face when he looked into her eyes and said, "Your honesty has been rewarded." He kissed her head again, totally welcoming the pleasure it brought him.

She smiled at him, and kissed him back, on the cheek. "I'm not the only one who deserves a reward."

He grinned. "Well, that's one way of looking at it." She flashed him a confused look. His grin only broadened. "But what I was actually referring to was _that_."

He nodded his head behind him; a car was being let inside the gates of Alicante ( A/N:which is strangely fictional since Alicante can only be traveled to by portals? I think. I need to get my facts straight ;D)

Jocelyn heaved out a sigh before putting her arms around Luke and holding him in a firm embrace. She kisses him on the lips now. "I love you,"  
He returned the kiss with just as much love and affection. "And I you,"

He let go first since he knew what she wanted to do right now. He smiled and followed her lead as she came, barely resisting to run towards her daughter.

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Clary was descending the car and was stretching her numb bones when she caught sight of her mother and who came to be known as her father, all her life.

She smiled. "Mom!" waving from afar, she said.  
Jocelyn made one giant leap and in less than a second, she was trapping Clary in a powerful bear hug.

"Oh, I miss my baby!" she squealed.  
"Mom, I've only been gone three hours." Clary said, a-matter-of-factly.

Jocelyn and Luke had left earlier than she and the others did, mostly because they wanted to get the preparations going already. They also wanted to get the first look of their home town after all these years and get reservations for the reception, and etc. The Lightwoods wanted to visit Max's grave a little bit before the wedding so they tagged along with the couple. The children; Alec, now 19; Isabelle, now 17; Clary, now 17 as well; and Jace who was somewhere between his 18's, were left in the institute, set to leave after Fall break. Simon was still in a mundane school, and if they planned on taking him with them, they had to abide by the rules that he finish his quarter finals first.

Clary turned to look at the car to check if anyone was seeing this sweet yet humiliating mother-daughter-moment she was having. But they were all busy looking around and chatting. Alec and Magnus had joined them there already. Simon was uncomfortable between Isabelle and Maia, whose eyes seemed to radiate a static intensity. Clary would be scared too, if she were in Simon's shoes; but then again, right now she was just amused. Out of habit, her eyes scanned for Jace. He was busy conversing with Luke around a pile of bags. The two men seemed to be laughing, but they're eyes were determined and seemed to taunt each other.

"Mom," A thought crossed Clary's mind. "You didn't have a nervous breakdown in front of Luke, did you?" she asked.  
"Me? Now, I would never do that, dear." Jocelyn gave her sweetest smile. Clary didn't buy it, but before she could retort, Luke approached them, smiling.

"Clary," he said. "Good to see you in one piece." He patted her head affectionately. Clary saw from the corner of her vision, Jace carrying almost all the bags, a disgruntled look on his face.  
"Uh, you need some help with that?" Clary offered.

"Yes, do you need help with that?" It was Luke who spoke. The mockery in his voice gave Clary the full impression that the two men were sharing a secret joke.  
Jace winced in an attempt to look tough, and being Jace, he succeeded. "I can take the heat, old man."

"Call it a bet then, whippersnapper." Luke held their gaze for a split second longer, and then broke away, a smile the size of Texas on his face. Jace was stifling something between a laugh and a grunt. He may be Jace, but 50 kilograms were still 50 kilograms.

It was pretty clear by the way Jocelyn's eyebrows creased upward that she didn't know what on earth these two were doing, and at that confirmation, Luke gave out one huff of a laugh.

"Alrighty, then. We're taking these bags over to the house. You ladies are free to roam as far as you please. Just bring yourselves home before six." Luke instructed.

"Yes, grandpa." Clary said, in a childlike manner that made her mother scold her, but made her laugh at the same time. She was holding it in since she was trying to play the parent role.

Luke shook his head as he began to walk away from the Gard. "Do you kids really think I'm old?" His voice sounded pitiful and Jocelyn smiled wickedly at him.

Clary heard a soft, melodious and husky laugh and immediately, as if her ears could talk to her eyes, her line of focus filled itself with Jace. He was parallel to her, and making his way towards Luke's direction, a stray object fell from his load.

Clary opted to reach down and get it, but Jace had faster reflexes even with 20 kilograms of Isabelle's clothing alone weighing him down.  
"I got it!" He called out.

"Are you sure you don't need help?" She didn't know how it happened, but she was now standing very close to him; if it were not for the small carrying pouch that separated them, they would've been touching from their knees to their shoulders. Clary felt the blood rushing up to her cheeks, and her pulse rising to supernova in a half second.

Jace's eyes met hers, and that was it; they were in their own world now.

"Positive." His voice was soft, sultry, and as if he couldn't breathe. His mouth curved into a smile before he put the barrier between them aside and bent over so he could give her a peck on the cheek; slow, seductive, and agonizing Clary's very being and sanity.  
"very positive." The things this man could do with his mouth, Clary thought. He could amuse her with it, kiss her with it, and then completely leave her at loss of sufficient air supply with whatever comes out of it.

He looked into her eyes again, and seeing she was knee deep in paralysis mostly because of his doing, he flashed a triumphant grin as he sauntered over to Luke as if he were on top of the world.

As the two men began to fade farther into the distance, Clary's mental capacity to process slowly came around itself.

"I just don't know what it is that drives men to compete for physical superiority." She lamented, seeing Jace resisting the urge to fall out of step with the stack of heavy duty materials on his back while Luke was looking. "I just don't."

"He's a teenage boy," was Jocelyn's reply. She was obviously referring to Jace. "It's what they do."  
"God, is that all they do? Eat, talk about wrestling and compete for who can do more push ups?" Clary felt a strong push of feminism in her.  
Jocelyn's gave a lopsided smile. "They also kiss their girlfriends goodbye."

It would be honest to say that a few minutes ago Clary felt like she could answer anything the world could throw at her; feeling that she was basically on top of the entire galaxy. But then her mother had to go and make her fall away into a black hole of mortification.

"Mother!" was Clary's response. The tint in her cheeks was exceeding the color pink.  
Jocelyn laughed, and actually seemed amused by this. "I didn't mention any names…"

_I am being teased by my mother; anyone else who finds this weird, raise your hand_, Clary thought deciding that this event shall never be spoken of ever again.

"Does it bother you that…he…uh… well…uhh…" The words weren't coming out as good as she was hoping it to. Clary knew her mother was cool with the whole thing, but this would've been one of the first times she'd ever seen them publicly show affection towards each other.

Sure, Clary assured herself that Jocelyn knew she and Jace had wasted so much time in the past year being miserable thinking they were related, and that now that they could be together, they were the type of couple that couldn't get their hands off each other. But it was different knowing it from seeing it. Clary was in a situation of despair and she felt like she was getting run over.

If her mom wasn't ok with physical contact like that, then she would never let Jace and her…  
_Oh my god!  
_Clary was probably as bright as an over ripe tomato by now.  
Clary shook her head at the too vivid imagination her mind gave her.

It was a good thing her mother couldn't read minds.  
"Why would it bother me, dear?" Jocelyn surprised Clary by asking, sounding a bit concerned. Jocelyn blinked twice then nodded.

"Oh," She prolonged the word. "Clary, just because I am your mother and that I worry if you are only a mere 30 seconds delayed in arriving in Alicante, that doesn't mean I'm a strict and unreasonable parent." She said, probably rather insulted that Clary would think of her as such.

As for Clary… Jocelyn didn't want to be the type of parent who made decisions for their daughters, telling them who to date and who not to date. But in all truth, what had she been doing for the past years? Hadn't she tried to keep Clary's bloodline a secret for so long? Hadn't she tried to bar her away from knowing the existence of magical deities?

Clary had long made peace with that issue, but occasionally, it brought back pain and curiosity. Clary remembered pointing out that her mother didn't have a right to keep a part of her memory away from her, even if it was for her own safety, a long time ago. It was, at that particular moment, that Clary had stopped being a child, needing to be shielded from the truth. She fought Drevacs; slain demons; struggled against the forces of evil, therefore she could be called, now more than ever, a full blooded, and hard headed, shadow hunter.

Jocelyn had long promised Clary she would never take charge of her life in such dominion ever again, so her mother opposing to her relationship was the least of Clary's concerns.

When Clary looked up at her mother with eyes gleaming with relief and understanding, Jocelyn, in turn, knew that her prized little baby didn't need the protection of a mother… but the love and acceptance of one. And when it came down to everything, both mother and daughter knew they were closer than they had ever been.

Clary sighed outwardly, not bothering to hide her being scared by the outcome of the topic. All the while, Jocelyn was smiling to herself, musing over Clary's apparent crystal clear emotions for Mr. Jace Lightwood.

"Now, before I make you turn every shade of color known in the wheel," Jocelyn took Clary's hand and began moving toward an avenue. "Come, dear! I have yet to show you what Amatis had done for the grand dress I'm wearing! It is simply marvelous!" she exclaimed.

The thought of her dream came to thought again, but Clary set it at the back of her mind for now; she'd have plenty of time to decode it sometime soon, because for now, she needed to see her mom be the happiest she's ever been in her entire life.

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A/N: **Ok, if you havent read the original chappie 2, then you wouldnt know that i edited osme stuff; removed the in-between a/n's and also the WHAT I FELT LIKE was the parts were i changed povs alot. I did try my best to make it one sided, but i just cant help giving Jocelyn's insites on it.**

**I WOULD put a JOCELYN POV word in there... but it would just disrupt my writing style and my rhythm...:(( heeeeee....im sorry if the chappie sucks people but please, if you think and need to say something to me...(like constructive critique and stuff) if you want me to improve...please do so in a review. No FLAMES though. :D (you can critisize me, but do it a less insulting manner, please, and thank you)**

**Now, as for the matter of updates......... IF YOU WANT THEM-- LEAVE ME A REVIEW :D  
hehehe I need them to feul my writer's block syndrome so please please, drop me whatever you feel like saying to me about the story because i would really really love it if you do :D**


	3. Chapter 3 part 1

**A/N:  
IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT: **please view my profile to get more updates and information, because the full explanation is there. You may havent noticed it yet, but this chappie is extremely LONG. I'm planning to cut chapter 3 into 2 parts..and this is PART 1. the second half is coming shortly. Just let me make the story board, and i promise I can post it by TODAY. Currently, part 1 is the only one screened and online.

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**Glamours;  
**_a spell or energy of illusion used to hide or disguise beings._

It was not just a dress, Clary thought; it was a magnum opus; a tour de force; a work of art. She couldn't bring herself to resist touching the soft lacey patterns at the hem; she couldn't resist staring at the complicated designs of the gown itself; the shape of the corset which held no equal to any other in terms of perfect fit. The perfect wedding dress for the perfect woman was all Clary could think.  
"Mom, its beautiful…no, breathtaking!" Clary exclaimed, holding the pins in her mother's hair in place. Jocelyn had her hair in a tight bun so that it was easier to get in and out of the dress; also, Alicante wasn't exactly known to have air-conditioning, so it got pretty hot inside the room.  
"You will look drop dead gorgeous in this!" Clary helped her mother rise into her shoes. They were at least two inches in height; pearly white in color, they where as well.

"Well, we can't have the guests dropping dead on the spot." Jocelyn flashed a wicked grin, as she ramped inside the small room. "But I'm aiming for something awfully close."

When she chuckled, her eyes drifted towards the full length mirror; upon seeing herself, Jocelyn felt the surge or the rampaging butterflies in her stomach go wild.

"Gosh, I'm nervous." Scared… suffocated… anxious, too.

Clary saw the panic in her mother's eyes. Immediately, she freed herself of the pins on her mother's hair, and dove to fuss over the zipper on Jocelyn's back.  
"Don't talk like that. Where is that strong and practical woman I call my mother?"

Clary heard her mother sigh. She pulled one string over the other in perfect synchronization. Clary was well wound up in the task when her mother spoke.  
"Oh Clary," Jocelyn turned over, making Clary loose contact with the drawstrings, to touch her daughter's fine boned face.  
"Love does things to you; stripping you of that strength, and leaving you naked weak in the knees." The unbreakable eye contact was intense. Clary could feel the emotion seeping from her mother; after all these years of hiding her past from her own flesh and blood, here was the new Jocelyn, giving Clary a heart to heart talk about her life. The life, she knew, was about to change in less than a week's time.

Clary didn't break the connection; Jocelyn did. She turned to face the mirror again, and Clary couldn't help remembering that time in her life when Jocelyn would face Clary to the mirror, brush her hair and hum songs from The Little Mermaid to her. Though now the roles were reversed, Clary felt a gush of familiarity with the simple moment. Making new beginnings was what Clary wanted; but keeping the memories of the past was as important to Clary as the air she breathed. Why she didn't want to forget what had happened against Valentine; why she didn't want to forget that her own father and brother had gone and made a name for themselves as one of the most notorious bad guys in Shadowhunter history; why she didn't want to forget the pain and endless torture during those months she thought, and believed, that Jace was her brother—she had absolutely no idea. Clary only knew that those events were what made her what she was now; and she didn't intend to loose any more memories than she has already lost.

The past didn't just give her hardship and tears, Clary reminded herself, the parts of her life she had enjoyed had existed in her past as well. Her birthday parties that were held back in their apartment in New York, the first ever ballet show she went to when she was 11. Clary remembered that she only went because Simon's mom already bought the tickets, and it seemed rude to tell her to give them back and get a refund. The memory of going to her first high school party was also something she wanted to look back upon, and meeting Jace for the first time was a moment in her life she would never forget.

_Jace, _Clary often lost herself in the word but she would never lose herself in the deepest depth of its meaning. She could almost picture out the whole scene in her head, almost flawlessly. The thoughts she thought; the words he spoke; the tone of his voice; they were all in perfect condition as they played repetitively in her subconscious. She probably owed this perfect interpretation to the trauma she must have developed when she saw that blue haired boy be stabbed mercilessly by Isabelle. Whatever the root of it, she was grateful. Because of it, Jace remains in her thoughts just as clearly as he appears in front of her. The thought brought a small smile to her face. He was loud, proud and utterly flamboyant in ego; he was hers, and she was his. They were irrevocably in love, and her heart sped with the joy of it.

Clary only realized that she had completely phased out all outside voices other than her own when she felt an arm shake her and her mother's voice came into her ear, almost abruptly.

"I'll show you some of the possible designs—you and Isabelle will weep over them!" By the sound of Jocelyn's voice, Clary knew she was beyond the feeling of excited.

"Of course mom; just let me go down to the kitchen first. I'll be right back." Clar started for the exit. When Jocelyn merely gave her a questioning look, Clary smiled against the door frame. "Looking at mouth watering drawings of dresses will call for a milk and cookies accompaniment, don't you agree?"  
"Ah—music to my ears,"

* * *

As Clary descended the stairs, she took in what was around her. Amatis' house hadn't changed since her last visit, which was more than a year ago. The color was still of the same shade, a pale yellow, and the furniture was still of that old mahogany style. The same circularly shaped window was below a small table which held a portrait of a family. That, Clary noted, was the only new addition to Amatis' little cottage.

The people in the picture were no other than herself, Luke and Jocelyn when they went to California a few months ago. They had a big tide rising, and they were obviously in a beach. Clary had worn a string bikini, much to her uncomfortable dislike, thanks to Isabelle's constant pressing. Luke and Jocelyn were engaged by then and had wanted to go on a family outing; they sent Amatis a copy of the picture when they sent her a letter concerning their plans for the upcoming wedding.

Upon reaching the last of the steps, Clary waltzed over to the kitchen, hoping to find a reasonable amount of cookies or milk. Going over to the refrigerator, she recalls how she and Jace had trashed the whole kitchen by opening a portal in it that Amatis _had_ to buy a new refrigerator to replace the one we broke. Clary recollected a great deal many things in this house.

"Oh my god!!" said a voice.  
"Ah!" Half awake from her day dreaming, Clary dropped the carton of milk she realized she was holding. She turns to face the voice, wishing she had her stele or something that was at least sharp so she could poke the intruder's eye out.

What faced her shocked her. She remembered Amatis to be a woman of high class; she was a very formal person, and she was always neat and tidy; a shadowhunter with grace and poise.  
What faced her was a woman in over-alls and working boots. She wore a shirt stained by dirt, and it seemed simpler than one of Simon's band tops.

"Amatis?" It was more of a question than a stated fact. "You scared me."  
"You and me both, Clary," Amatis' voice was still as fluid as it had been; though the hard and controlled tone of it had decreased, Clary noted. This was mostly because Amatis felt no sadness now; everyone was happy. Her brother was going to get married to the one he loved, the whole magical world was at peace with each other, and all was right with the world. She didn't need to be afraid of Valentine, and afraid to trust others anymore.  
Amatis was holding something in a pot, and she set it down on top of the counter. She was across Clary and only the said table served as their barrier.

"I didn't know toy were in," Clary saw the she was stroking something in the pot; it was a bunch of white lilies. "Luke noted you'd be here today, but I expected you to be out exploring so I never gave it a thought that you'd come home directly." Amatis had yet to tear her gaze away from the flowers. Clary smiled anyway, though she was sure Amatis wouldn't see it.

"Actually, Mom showed me the dress you tailored. It's lovely."  
Amatis' eyes left the ground for a half minute to look at Clary. Her face was strong and fearless, but her eyes betrayed her with its vulnerability.

"Thank you," Her reply was sincere. "It was a shock for me when she asked that I make her a wedding dress. I haven't designed anything in over 10 years. I'm out of practice." She set out 2 glasses from the bottom cupboard.

Clary remembered the look of the gown and felt her mouth hang into a slight O.  
"Your version of _out of practice_ must be far different form mine then." said Clary.

Amatis shot her a look. It gave Clary comfort, knowing that Amatis wasn't made of stone. She had emotions, and reactions; such as responding to a complement or flattery with a scowl.

Clary shrugs but a crescent smile forms in her lips. "It was a masterpiece."  
"Well…" was all Amatis could say. She crossed over to the other side of the counter to pick up the neglected carton of milk on the floor. Then she proceeded on pouring the contents of it into the two glasses. She sets a plate beside the filled containers.  
"Cookies to go with these, I suppose?" It was a statement; Clary smiled and nodded.

Amatis was a kind person, deep inside. Only to those who matter in her life, she supposed. Clary was happy to be one of them.  
"Read my mind." Amatis proceeded to open a cookie jar, and individually drop a cookie on the plate.  
Clary's eyes were free to roam the room, but they only brought her to one location.  
"Hey Amatis," Clary began.  
"Mm?" She was distracted; busily filling the plate with pastries.  
"That's a really pretty flower," The lilies seemed to dazzle her in the bright glow of the afternoon sun. "I didn't know you took up Gardening."

"Just recently; I needed to get out more often." The tone was casual, but the air around her had changed to a more restrained atmosphere. Something about the topic was troubling Amatis, that, Clary was sure of.

She didn't trouble herself with the cookies anymore; Amatis set the jar down and gazed outside the window. What she was a few kids playing and people passing by, merrily talking about a topic Amatis didn't care for. Some people waved a friendly Hello to familiar faces they came upon in the intersection of streets.  
"Everyone seems to have moved on. I thought that it was time that I had as well." said Amatis, with a voice surreal and dreamlike.

Clary could see the conflicting emotions enveloping Amatis. Treading into deep water, Clary said anyway, "What Valentine did to the City of Glass a year ago and also the years before during the Uprising, hurt, Amatis. I know it does," The image of Valentine sticking the Mortal sword into Jace's chest stung her. "but it shoudlt stop you from being happy. I'm happy; Luke and Mom are happy, as much as I want you to be happy."

Clary had seen a glimpse of Amatis' raw emotion once; that was when she had seen the face of the one she loved in front of her when Clary used that rune the Angel showed her. She saw it fully now; the look of unguarded sentiment in her bright and aging orbs, but as brief as the emotion flooded through her eyes, it disappeared.

Clary saw the smile Amatis tried to muster; it puzzled her as to why the expression seemed to eminate that _If only you knew _feeling. Clary understood why Amatis was sad, didn't she? Didn't she?

Clary realized she was holding her breath. After what seemed like eternity and Amatis didn't say anything, Clary started, "Amatis…"

"Clary—what is taking you so long?" It was Jocelyn. She had yelled from above, and Clary heard the soft clatter of her heels as they descended the stairs. She sauntered in the kitchen with an aura of pleasantness around her. She seemed inobservant to the deep tension in the room.

Her eyes found Amatis'. "Oh—Amatis! Look, look! I showed Clary your wonderful design!" She was still wearing the frilly thing. She turned in to a half circle, and posed. "She loves it—don't you, Clary?"

"Naturally," Clary tried to mask her weak-knee feeling with a snuck a glance towards Amatis. She had a smile plastered on her face; a glamour of her own kind, Clary found herself comparing.

"It is only magnificent because you're wearing it, dear." Amatis said, running a hand over the fabric of the gown. It flowed across her fingers like silk.  
Jocelyn gave her a look and said, "Oh! Don't flatter me!"  
Amatis gave a mischevious and knowing smile. "You're getting married. Its tradition!" she exclaimed.  
"Yeah Mom, "Clary piped in, trying to sound as normal as possible; if Amatis could pull it off, so could she. "You wouldn't want to break tradition, now, would you?"

"W-well, uh, I—"Jocelyn was being cornered by two preying lions.  
"Now who's the being who is bullying my bride?" Luke's all too familiar voice broke into the room.  
"Oh—my hero," Jocelyn leaped into his arms, captures him in a deep embrace. She pulls back a minute later to look at him.  
"What do you think of the dress?" she said.  
He scanned her like a radar once, then laid a kiss on her forehead.  
"It's wonderful just like you."

The reaction was different from what he expected. Jocelyn groaned dejectedly when she said, "oh, not you too."  
"Honestly, what is it with your family and complements?" Jocelyn whined.

Luke glanced towards his sister, and seeing the look in her eyes, he chuckled before telling Jocelyn, "We know who to give it to." He kisses her on the mouth now, short and sweet, as if testing its potency.  
After a short moment, he withdrew; and the passion in his eyes when he faced Clary was replaced with childlike taunting and teasing.

"… Just like the kid over there, rotting on the sofa." His smile grew wider when he figured Clary guessed who it was he was referring to. "He deserves a great pat on the shoulder, but I'm afraid to do so because it might damage whatever is left of his muscles that are still in tact." Luke was talking to Clary directly.

Clary was about to open her mouth to say something, but another voice had entered the conversation.

"Funny," Jace's tone was torrid and hostile. He was usually that way either when he was tired or his team in counter strike was loosing. (The knowledge of computer games was courtesy of Simon) He stepped into the room like he was the lord of the land, but when he spotted Clary, it was like he was one of those little elves in Snow White; the really happy one.

Then he spotted the cookies that were in front of her, and he said, "Ooh, yumm." referring to both the girl and the pastry.

Clary saw Amatis' eyes go huge with shock while Jace just continues being himself.  
He took a cookie with his left hand and took a bite.

"Hey, they're chocolate chip—I love chocolate chip."  
"So does a great deal of many people, Jace." Jace's eyes brought him towards Clary. They make eye contact then he moves towards her in fluid-like grace; setting the partially eaten cookie on the tip of her lips, Jace said, "Bite."

Clary's heartbeat sped to over 30 miles per second.

At first, she had resisted but when she fell longer into his gaze, all previous attempts to resists him were lost. She took a small bite out of it.

Clary admitted she expected Jace to smile triumphantly afterwards—and what a shock it must have been for her when she saw him coming closer; her heart waited until they were only centimeters apart to decide to stop pounding, or moving, or giving any vital signs at all.  
Its reaction towards Jace, despite the year that has passed, had never changed. Jace, still managed to take her breath away with simply just his presence.

As if reading her thoughts, Jace smiled. "Wonderful, isn't it?"  
It took Clary awhile to realize he was speaking of the cookie.

"Ahem," Luke's voice cut in before Clary could even blink. Luke, from the corner of her vision, looked as if he was grinning, though his tone was parental.  
Jace's eyes drifted from Clary to stare into Luke's for a split second then he smiled before looking back at her. Clary saw that Luke had been grinning as well, more amused than anything else. _It's like men speak to each other through one mind, or something._, Clary thought, extremely annoyed.

See? Now you understand how we feel whenever we're stuck with those two." Simon, who had just entered the room, said.  
"Hello Vampy-Mundane. How are you today?" Jace said in his best mockery of the polite expression.  
Simon's lip twitched before he turned away from him and leaned on the door panel. Clary caught it and began to smile.

Jace and Simon were getting along well enough nowadays; the two most important guys in her life, actually having fun in each other's company. Even if it does involve insulting each other each time they talk.

The thought brought a little life into her voice when she said, "Hey Simon, where's Izzy and Maia?" Clary honestly thought the two would be trailing after him most of the day.

Simon shrugged off the allegation. He said in a fearful tone, "I'm afraid to find out. But I think they're in the parlor outside," He gestured to the back room.  
"Well, you'd better go bring your _girls_ some cookies," Clary taunted her best friend.  
A flash of challenge glowed over Simon's undead eyes. He grinned wickedly.  
"Yeah, before your _man_ eats them all."

* * *

**[ CHAPTER 3 PART 2 ]-------------------------------------- updating updating :)) coming online shortly!!--------------------------  
**

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	4. Chapter 3 part 2

Clary turns away from Simon because of two reasons: 1, she didn't want to let him see her blush like a strawberry; and 2, speaking of said man…Jace was casually unobservant with the exchange of words, or so they thought. Instead, he was busily eating whatever was on the plate that was set on his lap. He leaned against the counter, consuming happily. Clary turned to her mother. "So much for snacks, huh mom?"

Jocelyn gave a hearty laugh as she walked over to pat Jace on the head.  
"A good boy is a hungry boy." Her tone was motherly and affectionate.

Jace's smile resembled that of a three year old being let off the hook for doing something devious.  
Clary rolled her eyes, yet she came towards him anyway.  
Jace smiled. "I knew you'd come back to me,"

"Stop hogging the food." Clary ordered _the three year old.  
_"Make me," Jace held out the cookie in front of Clary's face, then stuffed it into his mouth and swallowed it whole.

She responds by hurdling towards him in full battle mode.  
"Hold it up in the sky—she'll never reach it from there!" It was Simon.

Clary felt a sense of friendship betrayal. She turns to him. "Whose side are _you_ on?" she demands.  
Simon merely gave her a lopsided grin. "The winning side,"  
After a 3 second session of glaring at him, Clary jerks her head forward to face the battle with Jace again, and not for the first time, she found her lips pressed against his.

The kiss could have gone deeper; way, way deeper, if not for Simon saying, "Ooh, definitely on the winning side."  
They drew apart almost instantly. Jace's right hand, which was circling Clary's waist retreated behind his back, though his left hand remained in place: above her head, holding the cookie.

Clary's first instinct was to look at her mother and when she did, she felt her insides being thrown about—her mom was crying.  
Instantly, every panic cell in Clary's nervous system began to go on override as she scurried to her mother, fumbling for an excuse; an explanation; a miracle.

"M-mom w-wha—"  
Jocelyn held out a hand, stopping Clary's further babble.

"My baby," Clary couldn't breath. Every hanging word her mother left seemed to pull a string at her lungs, making it more difficult to inhale. Hyperventilation was coming close.  
"My baby is growing up!" Jocelyn said in one giant sob of joy.  
She broke out into many other smaller series of happy tears, then turned to Luke and said, "I need a hug."  
Luke opens his arms to her, as if they were made just for that purpose.

Clary felt the constriction in her airways subside. Gradually, oxygen began to flood back into her systems, and her panic cells began to calm down.  
Jace, looking unfazed, came to her side now, still the half eaten cookie at hand.

"You need a hug too?" His voice was pleading and utterly adorable.  
Clary couldn't believe it. The nerve of this person! Because of the effect his presence has on her; because of the near explosive attraction she has for him; because he was the damn love of her life—she almost had a serious panic attack!

She didn't hesitate when she rammed into the circle of his arms. Nothing, Clary swore, could ever make her feel so complete.  
They parted and Jace smiled directly staring into her eyes. She returned it with just as much intensity.  
Jace turned to where Simon, whose expression was beyond words, stood, gaping.  
"What? You want me to hug you too?" Jace said evenly.

"It's always about you is it?" There was sarcasm in his voice but it held no venom.  
Simon, Clary mused, was getting used to Jace's egotistical personality and, even though he dislikes admitting it, has created a bond with the shadowhunter.  
"What else is there?" Jace's sense of superiority left him no alternative than to praise himself; Clary found this trait of him fairly amusing.  
She elbowed him and when Jace fell back a step, a figure he was blocking caught Clary's attention.

"Amatis?" Clary almost forgot she was even in the room; she was so silent most of the time. "Are you ok?"  
"I—"She was trying desperately to find something to do with her hands, and ended up fussing over the branches of the lilies.  
"It's because Jace finished the cookies, isn't it?" Simon guessed, trying to challenge Jace into another fight. (They both probably enjoyed it, who knew?)

Jace scrutinized the cookie he held, and the crumbles left on the dish. From Clary's vantage point, she could see Amatis going rigid all over when Jace stepped towards her. The expression on her face made her look as if she wanted to run and hide under some burrow because the big bad wolf was coming.

On Jace?—Clary calculated that it made no sense to be afraid of the blonde. Sure he had his moments but most of the time he was pretty behaved and polite around older people.

"I'm sorry, I got carried away." He said, though he didn't sound the least bit in redemption. _Typical Jace_, Clary thought amusedly.  
"They taste good." he added.

Amatis picked the plant up from the counter, set it up again, then set it down again. All the while, her eyes never rose to meet Jace's.  
"Well, they should appeal to you," she murmured, in a barely audibly voice.  
"What?" Jace probably couldn't hear what she said, since it basically sounded like a bunch of jumbled up sounds in Clary's ears.

Amatis shot up; like she felt as if she said something she wasn't supposed to thus, accidentally hitting the plant. It fell down with a big bash, and the dirt scattered across the tiled floor and so did shards of the pot.

Jace moved to help her; crouching down as she did, gathering pieces and lilies.  
"It's ok, I'll help"  
"No, its fine, Stephen—"

Jace froze; an expression of genuine shock on his face.  
He hadn't expected her to call him _that_.

Clary felt the tension in the air rise, and the bile in her throat began to throb in addition to the stillness the room had taken.  
Amatis stood up immediately; leaving the floor with a mess and the people in the room stunned and silent, she left for the door.  
"I'm sorry," was all she said while she made her way through the suddenly cramped room; hurriedly making a chase up the flight of stairs.

Jace hadn't moved from where he was; the shock hadn't settled in him yet, the same went with everybody.  
Jocelyn and look exchanged looks of worry, but said nothing. Then when the silence was just too much, Jocelyn cleared her throat. Everyone shifted to look at her.

A smile was on her face when she said, "I'll talk to her. Don't worry, she's fine."  
Then, still in her bridal gown, she dashed out of the room as well, rising the steps in urgency.

Luke walked over to Jace, and crouched next to him. He patted him on the shoulder, and pulled him up as he did. They watched each other for a few moments and when Jace nodded, Clary knew that he understood.

And with vague realization, Clary found herself understanding as well.

It wasn't the battles and the bloodshed that had traumatized Amatis; it wasn't Valentine's quest to destroy the world and her inability to move on because of the past; no, it was something or someone much, much more closer to her heart.

* * *

**CHAPTER 3 FINAL A/N: **

**Lo and behold people-- Chapter 3 is now at an end! :) Now, if you loved it, or if you hated it, or you just think it needs some improvement...feel free to review me! :D HEy, dont worry, I always enjoy a bunch of constructive critique.**

Also, reviews are what feed my writer's drive to continue this god-forsaken story :D  
No reviews--no updates! That was the deal folks!

Hahaha Special thanks to all those out there who took the time to read this chapter and kept Glamours on their alert list! :D  
I love you all to bits and pieces!

Please visit my profile to see more announcements (story updates, plots, plans and other miscellaneous stuff!)  
Special mention btw--- the new fic coming up is entitled REDEMPTION (its already final)  
It is a Simon-Isabelle-Maia story and as of now it isnt online, but its coming real soon :D

If you want to know about it--message me, or check my profile from time to time to see updates! (I MIGHT be posting a excerpt from REDEMPTION :D since im only done with the opening prologue. Heehee.)

Soon to be posted: Chapter 4~!

Love you so much everyone! Keep the review coming! (They are my soul and my energy--without them, this fic will cease to continue!

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	5. Chapter 4

A/N: I'm so sorry if it took so long, but here it is!! Im sorry, but i know i wrote it poorly since i was being on the clock...s o i never really reread through most parts :(  
I hope i didnt mess up the JAceClary-ness of it :D  
If it did get somewhat messed and you think it sucks-- please tell me so I can replace it immdeiately and make a better chappie :D

As always--no reviews, no update! (if you like this story, please add a review telling me what you feel, because sure as hell, I'll reply to you and thank you because I want to and its fun :D)

Thanks you so much my glittery readers! :D To those who made my mood the best of all seasons because of the nice and wonderfully written reviews, I heart you people so much!

Well, I wouldnt want to keep you all waiting (more than I already have,) so here it is, people--- Glamours Chapter 4!! :D

* * *

**Glamours;  
**_a spell or energy of illusion used to hide or disguise beings._

Nightfall had come and Clary tried to make her self comfortable on her bed, and failed. The bedroom hadn't changed as well, in the grand scheme of the house. The wallpaper looked somewhat more faded than before, but Clary quickly dismissed that as a result of the faded color of curtains draped at the sides. The bed still felt a bit lumpy and Clary was so sure that that homey feeling of it would let her drift off to sleep easier, but it didn't.

She just had a little too much on her mind to even relax into a decent position. She tried shifting so she was belly-up; the right-side, left-side pose didn't work out for her either; and obviously, placing her head face first unto the pillow did her little to aid into the feeling of light headedness. Finally, after a few unprogressive minutes, she sat up and sighed.

_I guess I couldn't put off wondering about it till later_, Clary eased her back unto the headboard of the bed.  
Amatis had called Jace _Stephen _earlier in the afternoon, and then quickly left in a rush. Clary remembered how Amatis seemed to tense up when Jace came in the kitchen. She remembered how well Amatis had put up a show of smiles for Jocelyn, Luke, even—but when Jace walked in—her façade didn't appear as plausible as Clary gave it credit for.

And at the very end, it was by calling Jace by his real father's name that had the blood on Amatis' face drop to a cool 290 degrees. _Stephen. Stephen Herondale_.

Clary thought she was bound to wonder about Amatis' past, but in mild curiosity only. But to think about that strange dream she had of Amatis and Stephen was unavoidable now, and surely indispensable.

It made sense that Amatis loved Stephen Herondale, probable even after the divorce; it made sense that she must have grown bitter at some point in her life, after loosing the man she loved for a reason that wasn't even her fault, who wouldn't?; it even made sense that she must have built a defensive wall around herself to prevent getting close to anyone, after feeling she lost everything that ever mattered to her: her brother, her name, and her husband. But what didn't make sense was that when she faced someone who supposedly looked like him, someone proved to be the last Herondale alive, that defensive wall fell apart in pieces leaving her as vulnerable as a, as a—

"Mundane," the sound was a break in the registration center of Clary's ears.  
She shifted in the sheets, craning her neck to the direction where the sound came from.

And there he was.  
"Jace?" Clary's voice was both surprised and guilty with pleasure. "Jace!"  
The said man grinned and stepped into the terrace. Clary scrambled to her feet to get to the glass front. When she unlocked it, Jace stepped inside. Clary's heart leaped with joy exactly as she leapt into his arms.

Then she froze. Clary detached herself from him and said, "What are you doing in here? And who are you calling a mundane?"  
Even with her eyebrows knitted in anger, Clary found it difficult trying to stay mad when she was generally thrilled to see him.

Alone;  
Without Simon;  
Without Luke;  
Without anybody else other than himself;  
Alone.

Her soul was humming with elation. But no way was she going to let him know that.  
Jace merely laughed, his chin propped on top of her head.  
His voice was like candy for Clary's ears. "Which do you want to know first—what I'm doing here? Or who's the mundane?"

Clary gave it a lot of thought; surely Jace already had perfectly good comebacks for both of the questions—and she needed to think about the one which made her curiosity thirst for the most.

"Who's the mundane?"  
"You, no questions asked."  
"Hey—!"

Her tirade was cut off because Jace smacked his lips unto hers. She moaned softly while he curved his hands to gather her into him. When they finally cut loose the connection, Clary said, "You can't make me shut up every time just by kissing me, you know."

"Yes, but not only does it temporarily fry your brain circuits making you at a loss for words—it also proves an effective daily therapy for me." Jace smiled victoriously.

"You don't need therapy,"  
Jace considered the response. "Yes, I agree. I am near to the term perfection, anyway."  
"You need humility, though."

Clary smiled, knowing well he fell into the trap. His facial expression said it all.  
"Oh touché," He clapped his hands for her. It was, sadly, a rare occasion as to when she would pull one over the grand-daddy of puns. This was an important milestone Clary could weep over.

Clary couldn't stop the giggles that were building up inside her. She fell into his embrace again, feeling the soft rise and fall of his chest against her ear. She held him, only wanting his touch, his smell; only wanting to feel.

"Jace, what are you doing here?"  
"Mm?" He sounded dazed. So, Clary thought, she wasn't the only one lost in each other.

Jace could've forgotten everything in his life that happened before that moment. Having Clary in his arms was the single most perfect picture he could paint in his head, one that would take a lifetime to make, and would take even longer to out-do. Nothing, from his birth till present date, had ever made him feel so heaven bound.

Then there was Clary.

"Do you really want me to answer that?" Jace asked, pulling her closer towards him, his voice extremely low.

"Jace—Mom and Luke are right across the hall. And they might totally loose their heads if they found you here." Clary said, but there was no fear in her voice.

"Mmm," Jace said thoughtfully. "you're only worried if your mom comes in and checks on you in the middle of the night when she might be in bed with her husband-to-be right now, fast asleep or out on a, oh I don't know, a long walk with him and overlooking Alicante at some far off hill and probably wont be back until after sunrise since they're probably going to camp outside in broad starlight." He didn't skip a beat; he didn't so much as take a breath.

"But Amatis—" Clary began.  
"—is fast asleep," He drew a stray hair away from her face. "I should know; I passed by her window on the way up here." he gleefully admitted.

"Is this a habit of yours?" Clary demanded, staring up at him. The difference in height was immense.  
"Climbing up houses?" he inquired.  
"No, proving me wrong."  
"It's more of a hobby really." said Jace.

Clary shook her head. From this angle, she could see every angle of his perfect face emblazed with light. His hair was a little tousled probably from the winds outside, and it seemed wet to her. Clary knew Jace must have taken his evening bath before coming to her room (Or rather, climbing to it.)

His eyes looked like glass ebbed with gold, and as they stared directly at her, she felt the emission of passion as if it had the same intensity as a thousand suns.  
He cupped her face with his 2 gorgeous hands, and Clary wished she could actually think straight instead of just zipping her eyes around the features of his face.  
Her favorite spot to linger on was, particularly, on his lips.

Jace smiled. "I wasn't kidding though,"  
She didn't miss him say anything, of that, Clary was sure of. She knew because she's been staring at his lips for quite some time now, and they never broke into anything more than opening now and then to take in some air.

"What are you talking about?" Clary asked.  
"Your mother and Luke going out,"  
"How are you sure?"  
"Luke told me he planned on taking Jocelyn to some place special. I didn't ask where since he seemed determined to keep it a secret. He was thinking of leaving Amatis to take care of you while they were out—but then he had a few doubts."

Clary shot him a questioning look. Jace nodded.

"See, he said that Amatis really couldn't keep you from escaping the house to go to god-knows-where. He also knew you wouldn't go there alone. And the most reasonable person he thought you'd go to would be me." He brought his face closer to hers, only by a few inches. "So, saving you the trouble of having to tip toe your way out of this place to mine, here I am."

"So, if you're like my baby sitter—then why'd you climb in through the window?" Clary retaliated.  
One of his hands that were wrapped around her waist, moved to the back of his head, so he could scratch it sheepishly.

"Well, Luke didn't tell me to come here and baby-sit you, per se." He watched Clary's attempt to raise a brow. "He only gave me information about what he was planning to do tonight that it left you alone with Amatis. And in exchange for the dirt, I'd do him a few favors."

Clary remembered the secret smiles and nods Jace and Luke had earlier that day; the jokes only they seemed to be a part of; and the implications only them seemed to identify. Clary's mouth hung open as realization hit.

"So that's what all that stupid fight for male supremacy was about?" she asked him, although her tone made her sound as if she was relaying it to herself.

Jace shrugged, and then winced, probably remembering the weight of the heavy luggage pressed against his back.  
The memory of it would surely scar him.

Clary shook herself in his embrace. "But it still doesn't explain why you passed through the window instead of the front door,"

"Can't you just be happy to see me and be done with it?" Jace's voice was impatient, but his hold on her never tightened.  
Clary turned to look at him again.

It may be hard to believe, but he sounded so much like a puppy begging her to take him out for a walk at a most unconventional time. Clary laughed. It was even harder to believe, she once viewed him as an callous vision of a fearless warrior.

He was a warrior, in the technical sense. Fearless, when he faces Drevac demons and other imps. But Clary could justify that Jace was truly human. He was not a cold blooded shadowhunter; he didn't kill and just leave without even turning back.  
That wasn't Jace. He was the guy who would never walk out of a battle; a guy that would never flee to save his own life, when others' are in jeopardy.

He was the little boy who cried over his dead pet bird; he was the man who came into her room that last fatal night a long time ago, to ask her for one thing, and the next day, face Valentine and Sebastian alone, knowing well of what they were capable of. He cared, genuinely, and uniquely that Clary deems that there is no other heart, in this world, that could understand sacrifice and love as much as Jace's.

"Hey,"

Jace laid his hands on her hips, sitting at the edge of her bed now, he pulled her down unto his lap.  
"Yeah?" he responded in kind.

Clary leaned back into him; curling herself into the nook of his neck. She could feel the rising and falling of his chest; the easy breathing pattern his lungs made.  
"You coming into my room in the middle of the night reminded me of something," she whispered.

"What did it remind you of?" His mouth was near her ear, and Clary shuddered as a surge of electricity began to enter her system, making the hairs on her body stand erect.

"You coming into my room in the middle of the night." Clary noticed the vague amusement in his eyes, when she shifted the angle of her head to look at him.

"You really should leave the being funny thing to me and the Vampy-mundane." When Clary moved away from her inclined position to glare at him at a better vantage point, he added, "Clary, I love you, but you make no sense sometimes." And with that, he pulled her back close to him.

He felt her shoulders vibrate into a laugh. She slapped his chest, softly, when she said, "I'm not being funny!"  
He raised a brow at her, and she laughed some more. When she was done, she spoke again.

"Remember the time you came into my room, the day of Max's funeral? It was the first night we spent together." Clary barely managed to contain the blush threatening to invade her pores. Even though they only slept, the thought of him and her on the same plank of wood made her giddy.

Jace only remained contemplative for a short moment, and when he looked at her, he seemed to touch her soul with his smile. "I remember."

Clary turns herself, as she sat on his knees, so she could face him fully now. She didn't notice before, but she was actually being cradled by him. While one of his hands stroked hers in an easy circular pattern, his body rocked slightly, trying to lull her into relaxing.

Even from there, she knew her heart was falling at his feet.

"It's like de ja vu." It took a massive amount of energy to remain coherent when he looked at her like that. Like she was his sun, she was his everything.

His smile was wicked, and totally Jace-like.  
"Yeah, except I'm not making any promises on not touching you anymore."

He kissed her lips to silence any further words she might say. Then he looked into her eyes, straight to her heart.  
"Tell me Clary, if you could change anything that night… what would it be?"

When he finished his question, Clary felt his lips move to her neck and stayed there. His hands stopped drawing circles around her palm and began intertwining its fingers into hers; locking them in an embrace.  
Clary shuddered as she felt him gently using his teeth on that area where her bra strap was.

"I wouldn't want to change anything, Jace" Even when she felt his lips nip her earlobe, she resisted the itch of letting the sensation of pleasure take over so she could push him away from her, and unto the bed that lay behind them. Carefully, never loosing eye contact with him, she sat on his stomach and began tracing the line of buttons on his polo shirt with her fingertips.

"But I would like to modify a couple of parts." Clary didn't know where the sudden rush of confidence came from which made her act this way, but she knew that she would not let this moment pass. She and Jace could make love under any condition; but it wouldn't hurt to add a little bit of flaring seduction to it, Clary thought.

And then she bent down and kissed him, powerfully on the lips. The seat of power, though, was changed when Jace lifted her from where she was to position her under him. Their lips were still in wild combat when Clary began reaching up for those wretched buttons on his shirt. Flicking them open slowly, she let out a small giggle.  
Amidst the heat of passion, Jace broke the intense lip locking to look at her.

"Close the curtains, Jace—I can't sleep with this much light in the room."  
The familiar line brought a smile across Jace's face. Shirtless, he began shifting so he was on his knees, towering her.  
The light in the room made him look like Zeus' little brother. Clary noted, that his smile held a sort of seducing and tantalizing edge.

"Who said anything about sleeping?"

* * *

**A/N:** does it suck? Does it work? Does it need improvement? Please click that review button and tell me! I'm dying to know :((

As I've said countless times, I will NOT continue this story if I dont get sufficient reviews and a good inspiration! So pleasem if you want to even reach the finale of this story, review me! :D

Thanks so much to the great reviews everyone! To show you all how much I love you, I shall post your names here saying exactly so!:D (but i can only put the ones who have accs... I'm sorry my anonymous reviewers!! I promise to give you guys a shout out in the next chappie :D)  
::REVIEWERS::

**SmileYellowRose** ::I can always ocunt on you to have such a great critical eye on things :D thank you so much!::  
**tinydime** ::weee :D::  
**Goodgirlsgobad** :: I like Clary blushing alot, whenever she's talking to JAce because, duh, who wouldnt? he's jace for crying out loud!::  
**FictionJunkie** ::hahaha, who has sanity these days? XD::  
**Clumsy318** :: yes sirree!::  
**1987** :: :D:D:D aw, you're making me blush::  
**ShadX - Shadow Elf** :: hahaha I had fun writing that line XD::  
**Magic_noctum** ::thank you so much!!::  
**celiacangel8** ::thats a great complement ! thank you :D::  
**Leopardeyes** ::posting as fast as I can, dear reviewer! :D::  
**deadheart115** :I love the way you talk :D I really do! :D:D:D::  
**AradiaLoveles**s ::you and me both, hon! :D I hope i dont screw this story up:D::  
**Ami Rypkema** :: hahaha, now you're just flattering me :D Here's the Jaceclary fluff you were asking for! i hope satisfied you!(even if they werent caught and all that :D::  
**Kingra132** :: love the review! thank you so much!!::

please dont le tthose be the last!!! :D:D  
Keep the reviews flowing ok?  
Next stop--- Chapter 5!!! :D


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N**: Oh my god!! it's been like a month (or half of one..someone count!) since I last updated the story :((!! Im so sorry everyone! I've been really busy, and damn that new plot notebook, cursing me with half-witted ideas :((  
Anyway, I pulled through (despit eit making a major SUCK FACTOR) and Glamours Chapter 5 was made! (halelujiah! at long last!)  
I didnt get any inspiration, and as stated in my profile I've had like...IMMENSE writer's block for DAYS! waa! Anyhoo... I hope you like this chapter (it was sad to write actually; i wa sin a state of melancholy-ness so I think it had a lot of effect on how I wrote the story :D

As always, no reviews-- no update! :D hahah Im a pushy kind of person arent i? Im sorry! :D:D hahaha but I still wont take it back! lol!  
So, if you hated it, or you think its *sheet.... REVIEW ME AND TELL ME HOW YOU THINK IT SHOULD BE! I am quite ok with constructive criticism, as long as you state it in a dignified manner :D (no cussing, and no verbal abuse. :D) and if you loved it, or liked it, or even, just by an inch, are curious about it-- please review as well! I need to get a good amount of reviews so that I can actually have the drive to finish this story! (im a person with a short attention spa, and only via email alerts will I know if you reviewed me, and if I see that there are reviews, I'll remember to finish the story or update, or something :D)

Ok... enough chitty-chatty :D  
Glamours chapter 5, here you are, at long long last!~

* * *

**Glamours;  
**_a spell or energy of illusion used to hide or disguise beings._

She woke to the sound of crashing waves outside. The soft orchestrated swooshing was both soothing and curative. And she needed all that in order to restore her strength from last night's fervor.

Rising from the sheets, she smiled to herself.  
Though the melody nature produced was beautiful, the easy breaths her lover took whilst he slept was unsurpassed.  
Without looking at him, she knew he slept facing the ceiling, mouth slightly open.  
Without him saying a word, she knew he was dreaming of her, of them, and what would become of the future they would build together.

She freed herself of the blanket that was covering her body. She had no problem walking in her own room naked, anyway. She moved towards the glass terrace door, overlooking the new sun that was already high in duty.

The gulls looked spectacular; flying in a steady direction, then when you least expected it, they dive into the pristine water, breaking its stillness, then emerging seconds later with fish for breakfast. It was a beautiful picture of life's many events, and she was sure, if Stephen were not asleep, he would have loved to see it.

He enjoyed moments like these, when time was not as important; when they could sit and simply look around. If the weather was good, he'd ask her to walk up the beach with him, but if it was stormy, he would simply lift her off the ground, and set her on their bed. Then he'd say, _Let's stay here for the remainder of the next few hours, hm? _

It was not a question, and it was, surely, not something she opposed of.

She slowly inhaled the fresh ocean smell of shells and sand, and felt a sensation of peace overwhelm her. But before she could even release the air she kept in, a set of arms began gathering her into him. She sinuously melted into the embrace knowing very well it was him. From now on and so on, it would always be him. She closed her eyes, savoring every second of this love.  
When she exhaled, his lips found her bare neck, and simply stayed there.

"Good morning, my love." she said, and then opened her eyes.

* * *

Clary opened her eyes groggily. Her brain felt fried, and her body felt numb. And the heavens look down on her, trumpets rejoicing.

The night before was glorious, she thought, energetically, despite her sleepiness. She didn't even remember much of anything, except the feel of flesh on flesh; tongue on… places; love, and passionate heat meshed together in order to execute the dance of lovers, otherwise known as sex.

Clary felt herself shiver. In all truth, she didn't like using the S word. It seemed to demean the whole meaning of "making love".

Sex was an erotic term for what she felt was like a simple roll in the haystack; a relationship which had no strings attached to it. For Clary, having sex was like dancing the salsa without flavor or Ole! Ole was a Mexican term she unfortunately picked up when Simon persuaded her, and countless other poor souls (a.k.a Jace, Alec, Izzy, and Maia), to eat out at the new Mexican Diner that was two blocks away from Taki's.

Thanks to Isabelle's connection to the most accurate gossip group in the Downworlder community, they were able to pick up that it was actually owned by another vampire. His name was Carlos, and since the Alliance Rune was created, as well as a new board of leaders for every magical deity in the world, Isabelle relayed that Carlos had finally gotten the chance to marry the only woman he had ever loved, since childhood. Isabelle sounded annoyed and irritated when she told them this knowledge, and Clary remembered staring Simon's way, shooting him a _What's she so pissed about?_ look. Simon hadn't responded, but Clary was sure he saw her, which obviously meant he was keeping something.

It hadn't taken Isabelle longer than 3 minutes to reveal why she was so irate. Topped with Jace's constant side comments, Clary expected she was going to crack after 30 seconds! It was amazing she could have held out for more than that!

Rather than finding a new sense of respect for her friend, Clary also understood why Izzy seemed to fumigate with displeasure.

The story of Carlos and his love was very romantic; they met when they were 11 years old, in the small Mexican village, Oaxaca. It wasn't a very urbanized village; in fact, it was built with strong community ties, and close family bonds. It was a beach town, so it was a common native past time to visit the coast and smell that fresh salty air.

Sophia was only 9 when she first laid eyes on Carlos. She grew up in Denmark but true Mexican blood ran through both her parents' veins, and hers. It was love at first sight, and very innocent since they were both children. It was regarded as a little crush; but when they met a few more years later—passion for each other was still there. Working as a chef for a local joint, Carlos first made his attempt to ask the lovely Sophia, his love, out on a first date on the morning of her 18th birthday. She replied yes almost instantly, and they had set the date to later that evening. Carlos was super excited; he even rented out a new tuxedo for their classy meeting. He had an old Chevy which was still up and running, but he chose to rent himself a sleek new Toyota Vios just for the evening. He wanted her to have the best night of her life.

What he didn't expect was that it would be the last night of her life. And his.

Long story short, Isabelle was in a foul mood, not because it was an epic love story between Carlos and Sophia; no, Isabelle was in a foul mood because it was an epic love story between Carlos _the vampire_ and Sophia _the werewolf._

Wasn't it weird, Clary thought, why on the night Sophia was changed since her father had werewolf genes in him, and on Sophia's debut, she would be a wolf as well – was the same day Carlos met a road accident and was instantly killed?

Sophia learned of what happened to Carlos the day after her transformation, only, when the cops interviewed her mother and father if he had ever came and picked her up for their alleged date.

When they confirmed that he didn't, Sophia knew he was dead.

She pleaded and asked her father how she could help him. She screamed at her parents saying, _What is the use of having these powers, Mama, Papa, when I cannot even save the man I love?_

Her parents' heart flooded with compassion for their only daughter. Her father, sighing deeply, had told her that there was a way to save him, but they had to hurry, and it had to be a discreet exchange.  
But before Sophia agreed, her father warned her that if she wanted Carlos to live… she and him could never be together, ever.

Sophia asked why and her father nodded his head, taking pity on the difficult choice he was forced to make his daughter come in terms with  
"He will live, I swear he will, Sophie," he had told her. "But he will live as one of the damned. And werewolves cannot associate with them."

He paused, hearing the break in her voice, the cry of desperate sadness in them.  
"He will be a vampire; our mortal enemy."

It had been 20 years since that day, and not even by a single ounce, had Carlos' love for her ever flail. Not by a day, not by a second. Not by the two decades that have already passed them by. Immortality was short, he said. But not Love, no, not love.

If Izzy was touched by the sentiment, she never showed it, most probably because she was too busy setting the room on fire.

Alec had taken the wiser choice of backing away, and not saying anything offensive. Clary couldn't say the same for Jace though. Simon was completely silent all through out Izzy's rampage, and she never looked at him, even though it was him who was clearly the object of her immense rant session.

Which brought the thought of what Izzy and Simon's relationship came down to begin formulating itself in Clary's mind, as she shifted in the bed. When she was totally sure that she was awake, she began to stir, and felt something weighing her down. They were a pair of arms.  
Clary's eyes shot open in an instant. She twisted herself, her bare self, so that she was staring at Jace as he slept in peaceful slumber.

He looked even more angelic than he normally did, in Clary's perspective. His hair was tossed around in different sections of his pillow, and his eye lids were shaped like two small crescent moons on skin. Rather than having his arms around Clary as he slept, the covers were not drawn up to his neck. Unlike Clary—who slept with the blankets up to her neck—Jace was content to just let the sheets fall a little bit under his midriff.

It was a simple splendor to just gaze at him—Clary should know; it was a hobby of hers, this staring at Jace thing—but it was much more enjoyable to be in his company if he was not asleep.

Clary was smiling as she deliberately rubbed herself against him; circling one arm around his neck, and the other busily massaging his chest area.  
Results were better than she expected; Jace moaned audibly, as his soul began to flood back into his body.

When he was in a clearer state of mind to _feel _what was going on, he jolted into a sitting position, almost immediately.

"By the angel," He muttered, slowly 'shaking off the itch.'  
Clary stifled a laugh. Jace must have heard her, because with eyes still half open, he turned to look at her. When he caught her intention, he ran his hands across his hair, and turned to glance at the wall clock at the other end of the room.

It was barely 3:30 am. "Good morning to you, too," His voice failed to hide its lethargic edge.  
Clary giggled softly as she drew the sheets over herself, making them serve as an alternative for her lack of clothing. She sat up on the bed just as Jace plopped back down.

"Jace—"Clary, loosely clamping an end of the sheet unto her chest, began searching for something around the bed.  
"…mmm?" The slurred words came from Jace. When Clary peeked to look at him, he was already back into his sleeping position—but without her there to be held, he was facing the ceiling.

"Where's my shirt?" Clary asked in bafflement. A shirt couldn't just disappear after one night of demented passion.  
"I tore it apart, remember?" His voice was clearer but his eyes were tight shut.

Clary's hands came across something that felt like cloth somewhere under the bed. She pulled it out and found her night shirt from last night—or at least, what remains of it.

"Oh," Clary dropped the shirt back on the floor._ Rest in peace, beloved fabric; you have served a great purpose. _"Well—then lend me yours,"  
He hummed a yes, and she began fumbling for the top. When she found it, she slipped out of bed, as she slipped it on. While she buttoned up the front, she glanced his direction, again.

His expression was peaceful, and his chest rose and fell as a result of even breathing. Clary smiled; walking towards him as she fastened the last button in, she knelt by the side of the bed.  
She angled her head so that it hovered above his, and quite slowly, she began to whisper to him.

"Be right back."  
She was moving away when he surprised her by taking hold of her hand, and pulling her back down so that her right ear was near in contact with his lips.

"Promise me," his voice was so compassionate, and so un-Jace-like that it astonished Clary, as much as it brought so much warmth to her heart.  
She smiled down at him, even as she was sure he was already in dreamland, even as she moved away towards the door.

"I promise."

* * *

Clary crept out of the room, as silently as she crept downstairs. It was far too early, after all. On her way to the stairs, she passed by the second guest room, and saw that Jace had been right—judging by the clean, and untouched sheets, Jocelyn and Luke had not come home the preceding night.

The thought of them out in a tent overlooking Alicante struck the inner romantic in Clary. When her mom would wake, she'd be welcomed by the rising sun, slowly lighting up the City of glass. And she'd be in Luke's warm embrace, and Clary could almost imagine how right that must feel, for her mother; to be exactly where you wanted to be.

Clary snapped from her daze. _Man, I really should stop dreaming about Jace every waking and non-waking moment I get_, Clary shook her head, but a smile was on her face.

No need for dreams, anyway. Jace was a reality now.

She finally reached the staircase, and strode down it, in Jace's polo. She paused at the middle of the flight of steps when she heard a rumble of soft noise coming from the ground flood.

It was too early for people to be up and about the house, she thought. Who could be up at this hour? What business did they have in Amatis' house? And how is she supposed to entertain to them when she wasn't wearing an appropriate (not even a sufficient amount of) clothing?

When she reached the foot of the stairway, she was surprised, but nevertheless relieved, that the noise was only Simon hauling a bunch of knapsacks out of the house.

Wait a minute, Simon was hauling a bunch of bags, his own bags, out of the house—was he moving out? Where was he going?

"Simon?" Clary asked, stepping out of the shadows so that she was in eye shot of him.  
He turned to look at her, his eyes scanning her from the bottom up.

He raised both brows, when their eyes met. "Nice outfit, Fray." She felt flustered as she brought her hands over her chest, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"Where you planning to go dressed like that?"

Clary's eyes drifted to the bags once more, she registered that there were 2 knapsacks. One was blue and big—obviously Simon's—while the other was more designed with flowers, glitters, and was embellished with the words Prada.

_Obviously, not Simon's_, Clary thought, without doubt.

"Where are _you_ planning to go bringing all that?" With one hand still over her breast area, Clary pointed to the two travel cases.  
He didn't look to see where she was referring to; but his eyes averted her gaze, instead, they chose to look somewhere across the horizon.

That was a sure sign of something wrong. Clary knew Simon could always tell her the truth, straight into her eyes, but now he seemed to find the window much more entertaining.

"Simon—" Clary began; forgetting to cover up, she reached out to touch her best friend on the shoulder.  
"Tell me Clary," He moved away, and sat down on the couch. Clary sat beside him, and he began to unload his thoughts.  
"Would you forgive her?"  
"Forgive who?"

He suddenly became tempered; he violently tapped his fingers against his temples, in an attempt to search for the right words.  
Then, he just snapped.

"She got ticked off enough to give Maia a load of crap—ticked off enough to make Maia feel so bad that she'd run away—and all because of something as crazy as calling dibs! I am not an object—and she thinks I'm like, like, something they can claim? Jes—you know, if I could actually say _His_ name, I would—but damn it, I can't." Simon growled. Mentioning a holy name as an expression of exasperated incredulity was one of Simon's hard-to-break habits that he had to let go when he became a vampire.

He banged a foot to the floor, and it made a small _dugg_ sound, as he turned to Clary; his eyes were pained and curious.  
"Why the hell would she do that?" he asked her.  
"Well, I'm sure your mom has her reasons." Clary set her hand on his shoulder, and when he looked at her oddly, she laughed.

"I was kidding!" Clary said in between her giggles.  
"Yeah, sure you were."

"Hey!" Clary lightly smacked his shoulder. As expected, he felt nothing; damn that vampire immunity he had, damn it to hell. "I know who you mean! Honestly, where's your sense of humor?" Clary said, rather offended.

"Down the drains; I suggest yours go the same way," When he grinned, Clary resolved that there was no room for tenderness now. She hit him at the back of his head, and it made a satisfactory thug sound. Simon muttered an "Ouch! Hey, that hurt!"

Clary crossed her arms across her chest when he rubbed at the soar part.  
"Hmph; everyone's a critic." said Clary, indignantly.

"Nah, that's just me" Clary turned to look at him, with the Piercing Stare of _Unforgivitude_. It was something she only gave him twice in his life as her friend: the first when they were in 2nd grade and Simon accidentally stepped on her school girl skirt thus revealing her panties to the whole primary division; and second when he told Jace about how she cried during her first visit to a dentist. Even though she did forgive him eventually, Clary's Piercing Stare of _Unforgivitude_ was like a childhood momentum for them; something they both look back upon and laugh.

"Aren't you even going to ask me who?" Even in her state, Clary couldn't help but worry for her best friend. Simon wasn't the type to go on a tirade.  
"I'll take your word for it." he said.

He usually wasn't so estranged and distant either, Clary thought.

Clary's eyebrows knitted together, but she moved closer to him, putting her arm over and around his neck.

"So," she sighed, and he leaned in closer to her; a comfortable friend-like sign of affection. "This is going to be one of those best friend-heart-to-heart-relationship-talks-we-swore-never-to-bring-up-ever-in-our-lives huh?"

Clary felt him quiver into a laugh. Then he pulled his head away from leaning on her and rested it at the backrest of the sofa. He stared at the ceiling with a contemplative annoyed, _why me? _expression.

"Those girls are driving me crazy," He went right to the point. "Izzy—she said some nasty things to Maia and now Maia ran off. She said she didn't mean it. But come on! Who would believe her? She and Maia are ok with each other as rivals, but hey, they're not much of friends either. They're so different. Isabelle is strong willed and dominant; Maia is a shy type who is innocent and much less of a hassle than Izzy. And they're fighting over me, and I have no idea how that could be the main objective of their cat fight! It's me we're talking about here! I'm not that much of a prize!"

"Now don't be modest; you are indeed a prize, and you can't blame them for vying for your affection. They're both a bunch of gladiators: fierce, and filled with fighting spirit." Clary said, but Simon was still in turmoil.

"Yeah, gladiators who kill each other off to win the game." he hissed.

"Simon, you know Izzy would never do that." Simon didn't know Isabelle Lightwood like Clary did. Ever since Clary moved in to the Institute, she and Izzy have been like soul sisters—Izzy became the sister Clary never had, and they shared many laughs and secrets.

She knew, deeply knew and believed, Isabelle would not do something to strip her of her honor such as fighting dirty.

"Izzy would never do anything to hurt you. Do you really think she'd say those things to Maia without Maia playing any part in pissing her off? Simon, I'm not defending her, I'm just giving her the consideration you seem to have missed out." Clary searched his eyes, but he seemed to avert her gaze.

Clary's heart constricted. "She cried, didn't she? She told you what happened, and what did you do, Simon?" Clary demanded.

"Clary, it was—I was—I mean—Clary, you have to understand—I," He couldn't find the words again; he couldn't even find the courage to look at Clary in the eye and say that he cared when those tears were falling off her face. He couldn't.

"I'm going away for a few days. I promise to be back by your mother's wedding. I can swear that Clary. I've made a lot of mistakes, and I may be making a wrong move by doing this, and agreeing to this, but I need to go find Maia. Izz—I'm not traveling alone, don't worry. There's a great lead as to where she might go. There's this wolf pack in the farther parts of the Pacific Northwest region of America. Anyway, Magnus—if he agrees to it—will teleport us inside the city; it's somewhere in the Clallam County, and we'll begin searching for Maia there." He paused. Clary said nothing the whole time. " I will come even if you object to it, Clary. I have to see to something; I have my own concerns; and I have to fix somethings myself. Isabelle swore with that Shadowhunter pledge that she'd bring Maia home, and ask her to forgive her. That no matter if Maia wouldn't forgive her, she said she'd do everything to make her come home. That even if she couldn't heal the wound she inflicted, she could try to mend it, and ease it. She said she had to do this, an act of redemption."

Simon noted Clary's eyes study the two back packs for a few seconds, then her gaze fell upon her two dainty hands.

"Simon," Clary said evenly. "I wont stop you if you wanted, needed, to go." The air was suddenly warmer in the room. This was something hard for Clary; she loved both of them, Simon and Isabelle. Both had touched her heart, at least more than once in her life; both had gained an entirely big chunk of her love; both had unresolved problems that hurt them, and Clary couldn't bear to accept that nothing she could do or say could ever heal what only they could.

The idea of Simon and Isabelle happy together, and what their relationship amounted to, suddenly seemed like a long and far away fantasy now.

"I won't stop you if you need to go searching for Maia. We all care about her; you care about her, and she's out there hurting, and I understand that you need to help her. I won't do that Simon, because I'm your friend, because I know how it feels like to loose someone important to you. I trust you Simon, but I would just like to know one thing. Just one thing, then you can go. I'm sure Magnus will account to telling the rest, and it's up to Isabelle on how she's going to explain this to her brothers. Please, just tell me this one little thing, and look me in the eye when you say it."

"When Isabelle cried—when she broke into tears telling you, in person, what she had done; how she intended to fix it; did you wipe away her tears? Did you soothe her? Did you make her feel less depressed than she already was?" Clary's words were sad and melancholic, but when Simon's eyes finally found hers, he saw her expression was comforting.

"No; no, I didn't." And Clary knew he would never forgive himself for it.

* * *

**A/N:** NO REVIEWS NO UPDATE PEOPLE! :D Now that you're done reading this chappie, lemme ask you.. DID YOU GET THE HINTS FOR THE SECOND TMI STORY IM GONNA WRITE ? (clue: It starts with R and ends with EDEMPTION :D:D) Weee... yuhp! Im a SimonIsabelle shipper but this is just a semi-plot that goes with this story :D I'm going to make REDEMPTION as a separate fic, naturally :D (since I like expanding on a singular plot. :D)

Now, for the next batch of reviewer-thank-you-section! :D (the anonymous reviewers take the stage) and countless new reviewers since my last update :D  
Thank you sooo MUCH! (keep on reading and reviewing my lovelies :D:D:D)

::REVIEWERS::  
_*anonymous:  
_**::...::** thanks so much :D aw, thats really nice of you :D  
::**candiieyes**:: thank you thank you! :D keep on reviewing me lovely:D  
::**ANONYMOUS** B:: really? ^^* awww, now im flustered! thats a big complement thank you so much!  
::**MS. BELSIE**:: thank you! *hugs  
::**dina_mart95**:: yes clary does need a cookie :D hahaha and I love the review :D thank you so much!  
_*signed:  
_::**Mz. Random Awesomeness**:: me thanks you loads! :D :D  
::**Clumsy318**:: *glitter thank you so much :D  
::**Ami Rypkema**::no, thank you, my lovely reviewer :D the update wouldnt be made without your undeniable support :D thank you so much!  
::**SmileYellowRose**::there's no lemon in the chap sorry, my lovely :(( I was feeling up for starting Redemption at this particulat part of the story already (since i needed to give more emphasis to the pairing but in a separate world of their own :D) I hope you like this though! (even if i think it sucks...other people dont have to! :D wee)  
::**AradiaLoveless**::hahahah exactly what i thought. I love the line, and it came upon me during 1 30 in the morning :D hahahah  
::**tinydime**::its ok, dearie. The pc is a complex being. And sometimes complex beings are such *beaches :D  
::**Tremma**:: thanks so much; it means alot to me  
::**aquamysticwriter**:: glad yo ulike the story enough to love it, lovely :D wee keep on reviewing!  
_*errored in typing during last chappie :D (hhaah typos)_  
::**Dimitri's-babe**:: updating as fast as I can think, my lovely :D  
**::MrsCullen1987**:: hehehe only 1987 showed in the last thank-you-thing my lovely :D so sorry! but I really appreciate the review :D ;D

Dont let them be the last, people! (becaus eif they were....then Glamours might as well end here! hahhaah, please read and review, my lovelies! They are my *energy..*my inspiration and my *drive to continue and even reach this far of this story :D

Thank you soo sooo much!  
Chapter 6, soon to be posted!


	7. Chapter 6 part 1

**A/N**: DOOOOOOODDD... this is LONG OVERDUE! I just havent had the time to update due to a busy schedule and school being such a .... you know the usual stuff.  
But here i am and here it is~ Chapter 6! (and guess what?~~~ ITS SEPARATED INTO 2 PARTS AGAIN!)

Yuhp, just like Chapter 3c (which was abnormally long) this story is also quite similar. :) I'd promise to post the next chapter as quickly as possible so that this chappie wont seem like a cliffhanger... but I know I've had quite a long run when it comes to making promises. :(( Im so sorry my reviewers!

Alright I SWEAR (by the angel) that Chapter 6 part 2 will be posted within the boundaries of tomorrow and today :D (surely if youve waited for this update for more than half a month, you can wait for another 48 hours cant you? :D Thats my reviewers! I love you all, remember that!)  
Ooh, note note: IF YOU LOVE ME TOO, PLEASE REVIEW! (I wont update into the next chapter if a sufficient number of reviews are unmet. Im sorry but I get constant writer's block and only when email alerts that say REVIEW FOR BLAHBLAHBLAH can i actually remember that I have something to finish :D

So please please! if you guys like the story (or hate it, or think it has potential but needs some corrections and stuff) REVIEW ME! :D I love constructive criticism (in nice manners) and I like to hear the story from your end of rope, my lovelies! :D

**DISCLAIMER: Chapter 6 part 2 may come somewhere within the next 48 hours (which haunts my conscience because im such a slack!) and this chapter is poorly written and i think it sucks (because im such a horrible crammer with horrible handwriting to boost!) but nevertheless, i think you may all like it enough :)**

Glamours Chapter 6, everyone~ here is part 1~

* * *

**Glamours;  
**_a spell or energy of illusion used to hide or disguise beings._

_"No; no, I didn't"  
_Simon's words haunted Clary, even as she saw Simon to the door and bid him goodbye and good luck. But only as she sank down into the couch, minutes after, did she feel an aching numbness build up inside her.

If one thing was for sure, it was that Simon had a strong sense of compassion for he was the type to never rest until he's satisfied all the necessary means to save others, regardless if they deserved it or not. (Clary called this 'The Hero Syndrome'. Jace was pretty prone to it too.) Like in a chess game, he'd probably be one of the last to lose (or to win) because he can never make up his mind whether he should move his Queen diagonally, to safety, or to use his Knight, and eat the opponent's bishop. And if he'd been left with only one of them, having traded one for the other's wellbeing—it would be a sureness that Simon's heart will be as if it had lost a vital beat. And eventually, it will lose rhythm, and will refuse to beat at all. In reference to the chess game again, it was also true that Simon has been known to be a precautionary person who rarely risked himself without any assurance that he'll come out in one piece, afterward. (Why else would he toil on his strategies unless he wanted to take the safer path to victory?)

And because he was what he was, Clary had greatly appreciated all he'd sacrificed for her, most especially the previous year.  
Simon temporarily said goodbye to his normal life by accompanying (even though it was by circumstance) the Shadowhunters to Idris. He found himself in a gory battle for supremacy between good and evil; fighting alongside magical beings, he never would have thought existed outside his comic books. And Clary couldn't forget that little tidbit about him loosing his mortality, now could she? Technically, it was her fault he got turned into a rat back in Magnus' party (even though Isabelle was mostly at blame, Clary knew she had more to do with his rash and irrational behavior.) After all, the only reason Simon even drank the concoction was because he wanted to prove something to her; show that he was just as "testosteroney" and "as good" as other certain somebodies. (Jace; no doubt about it) So one thing led to the other and because of his jealousy-inspired impulse, he ended up being infected with vampire blood, and now, merrily goes on his days stuck, forever, at 16.

And to get more into detail, Simon's life managed to get even more screwed up because of Clary when Jace went and gave him his blood and made him The Daylighter, a vampire who could walk in clear view of the sun, and basically hunted down for it.

When all are put into account, you wouldn't so much as think twice when you run off in another direction and avoid Clary like she was the Grim, if you were in Simon's shoes. Clary remembered preparing herself for when he'd finally explode and go off saying 'This is too much! Too much, I say!' and walk out of her life for good. But he never did. Well, he did do the 'This is too much! Too much, I say!' dramatic monologue once; but the walking out of her life for good never came. Because he told her that he'll always be there, even when Clary felt she didn't deserve to have anyone at all, he will always, _always_, be there— he will always be her best friend.

And a sense of warmth swept over Clary, and she comforted on his loyalty. She hung on to that even as she found herself wondering how all those years she'd known him, she'd never seen him indulge into such a heartless state of being.

_"No; no, I didn't." _

Clary's heart went out to him. Really, Simon had the right to be angry, but he had to know that it wasn't his burden to carry, and brood over—Isabelle, the Lightwood female Clary came to love as much as a sister, was the one being anchored by it. And she was the one drowning.

It was bad enough if she had to deal with regrets and trying to make amends to Maia. It was painful enough to hear herself say it was her fault. She didn't need to be reminded about her slip up, about her little mistake, again and again by having people around her hate her…  
…Especially not Simon.

Clary knew, despite Izzy's perfect bitch face glamour and tough girl exterior, that she was like any other girl with feelings—and that losing Simon would be unbearable.  
And besides, to go great lengths for someone you love was a field Clary knew well.

Isabelle may not have liked Maia very much, but she certainly had not hated the girl. If you looked at it through a stereotypical perspective—why would she even feel bad about spitting shit to her nemesis, in the first place? She could have easily lied to Simon about having anything to do with it, and by detaching the potential threat to their relationship, have him all for herself.

But instead she decides to take a hopeless chance and haul her ass, and Simon's, over to somewhere and search and retrieve the one person that's standing between her happily ever after. And at the same time, trying to suppress tears at the thought that Simon may or may not forgive her after all of this is over. Right now, her life was worse than hell. And only because Izzy was a strong person, had she not allowed herself to curl up into a ball and cry, and cry, and cry.

_She would have though;_ Clary brought her knees up so she could hug them; _if she didn't love Simon.  
_  
Clary closed her eyes sadly as Simon's words breezed by her again; bringing with it a kind of dankness she could not do away with.

_"No; no, I didn't."  
_Sometimes her best friend was such an ass hat.

Without warning, something burned inside Clary's, or rather Jace's, polo's front pockets. Clary drew it out, and in instinct, threw it as far away from her skin as possible.  
The toss garnered itself a small thud against the wooden floorboards.

Clary inspected Jace's shirt for any damages, and strangely there were none. She peeked under to see if any part of her flesh was affected, but not a single wound or trace of any was there, even though Clary was sure she held the item for at least 20 seconds before flinging it. She remembered loosing the feeling in her finger tips for a brief while because of the contact.

Carefully edging from the sofa to where the object might have fallen, Clary tried to fathom what it could have been.  
And her face took on a bewildered expression when she found out.

A witchlight lay, dimly illuminated, near one leg of a chair.

"Jace must have forgotten to take it out before—last night." Clary said out loud.  
It was certainly peculiar. Witchlight stones had not been known to burn, more or less attack people. In comparison to the mundane world, they were like flashlights. Shadowhunters used them to light up dark places when hunting or off on missions. Clary wasn't harmed physically, but remembering the pain made her slightly uneasy—

"_Boo_,"  
Because of the sudden shock, Clary proceeded to screaming girlishly.

"Hey! Hey!—" There was a voice, and then there was a hand coming to Clary's mouth, simultaneously shutting her up.  
"By the angel, you'll wake the neighborhood!" It was Jace's voice shushing her, it was Jace's hand pressed against her lips.

Clary jerked herself of his hold, to face him—she was in such a rage that she barely even paid attention to the fact that he was shirtless—so she could push him back a step.

"Jace! You scared the living hell out of me!" When he laughed, she grunted and pushed at him again. He didn't budge this time.  
"It is SO not funny!" she exclaimed. Jace caught her arms as she began flinging them at him.  
"Yeah it is. You just won't admit it." Jace only chuckled. His fingers idly stroked her palms.

Clary pushed herself away from him, and stood at least a foot away.  
"Its not funny." she repeated, stubbornly.

Jace, despite himself, sobered up when he must have felt that something had Clary all twitched about. And it wasn't because she made a complete fool of herself, he was sure. His expression immediately became all concerned-like.

Clary wasn't sure how fast he went but almost like lightning, he flashed only a few centimeters away from her and Clary heard him sigh inwardly.  
Then he lifted her, without effort, off the ground and carried her towards the kitchen.

After some of Clary's protesting, smacking, and wiggling with no end, he annoyed her some more by kissing her forehead affectionately before setting her atop the counter, her feet dangling because she couldn't reach the floor.

Clary fell silent and stared at his face when he pinned her sides by leaning forward, his lips at a close kissing range.  
After a short three breaths, he finally spoke up. Clary was afraid of what he might want to know.

"Hey, is that my shirt?" His tone was mildly surprised.  
Clary couldn't help lolling her head sideways. Leave it to Jace to bring up the most unexpected random things right after sweeping you off your feet.

She had to give him a little credit, though; she felt more stable than she was before.

"You know, most boyfriends would go for the _Tell me what's wrong, baby?_ Or the _Are you ok?_ opening lines." Clary said.  
"Tel me what's wrong, baby; are you ok?"

Clary laughed a little. Jace drew her face closer to his, and smiled.  
"How about answering me for a change, hm?" he asked.

Clary felt herself shake inside, jitter bugs crawling up her neck. "About the—" How was she to explain the strange behavior of a common _flashlight_ to Jace when she couldn't even tell herself indeed if it was possible in the first place.

Jace's eyes narrowed; his brows knotted together. In a serious voice, he said, "About the shirt and why you're parading around in it, thank you."

Clary slowly released the air she never knew she held in.  
One of the many reasons she loved her man was because he knew how to soothe her, and all the while summon her temper.  
To be pissed and annoyed; it made her feel a little more normal again.

"Well you don't expect me to go around in my birthday suit now do you?" When he began to tilt his head to the side, a smug expression to go with it, the warmth in Clary's body heightened. And it wasn't because of temper this time.

Clary's nerves relaxed and for the first time in the last few minutes, the tickling in her spine ceased.  
She looked him in the eyes with her best imitation of a haughty stare.

"Besides, you ripped my shirt; isn't it justice that you pay yours in exchange?"  
Jace's mouth fell open, and closed again. He tucked his lower lip under his upper one, and Clary recognized the look.

He was pouting.  
And he was really, _really_ good at it.

"I like that shirt," his voice dropped into a whisper.  
"Deal with it." Clary felt the annoyance brewing again—and accompanied with passion, she didn't know how this exchange would end up!

Jace affectionately drew one hair away from her face, still, with the cute pouty-face on.  
"You really should learn to let me finish what I have to say." His fingers remained glued to the side of her hair near her earlobes.

His free hand went protectively to her waist, and in one graceful move, he brought her feet back unto solid ground. The floor was tiled; Clary's feet felt cold and moist when contact was made.

"I like the shirt," During his pause, Jace took Clary's face in his hands and cupped them towards him, so he could make sure Clary was looking right at him. His eyes were completely unreadable now. They were like hazed by a glassy surface. Clary found that she was mystified by them.

"…on you." he finished with a smile.  
At that, Clary's everything shattered.

She shoved herself straight for him, and clung. He rocked back and forth as he slowly released her face to play with her hair. Clary wasn't crying; in fact, she was far from sad. All she was doing was hanging on to Jace, her promise for a better tomorrow, her shadowhunter, her protector, to remind herself that after pain, something bright can always follow.  
That and his warmth had chased away the chilling sensation that the witchlight had left her vulnerable to.

Her ears pressed against this chest, Clary timed his even heartbeat and paced her breathing with it.

"Tell me what's wrong, baby." Jace said, his tone too sugary-sweet for his own good.  
Clary hit him then, annoyed that he found a good pun for that pick-up line.  
After a momentary chuckle from Jace, the room fell silent again.

"Jace—" Clary spoke.  
"Yes?" Jace responded in kind.

But before Clary could say something, his arms went over and around her to carry her, again, into the living room. This time Clary didn't bother to resist.

"Uhm, your witchlight—" The shaking in her voice could not be concealed. "—or any other witchlight—can it have the power to burn without being provoked?" Clary was sure to choose her words well.

Like what he was carrying had the entire body mass of a doll, Jace set Clary down on the soft couch. He sat down beside her shortly there after; he was looking at her oddly, obviously confused.

"Uh—let me rephrase." Clary offered. "Can witchlights do anything else rather than produce light?" she simplified.

"They make pretty good paper weights." A wide grin was spread across his face.  
"I'm serious," Clary patted his leg softly. Jace met her eyes, and the smirk he wore turned into a serious thinking face.

"Well," He looked considerably at the sky this time. He was scanning his memory for all the lessons he must have taken about it. Finally, he said, "Older nephilim had brought news many decades ago about witchlights reacting negatively to the forces of evil or danger; but not the kind coming right away, but soon enough."

Clary shifted so she could hear him better.

"It's similar to a premonition or a divination, if you put it." Jace told her. "And like all that, it isn't 100 percent accurate; barely even 80 percent. The witchlight is supposed to give off a vibe or vision about an upcoming death, tragedy, or life."  
_Life_, Clary mouthed the words.

Jace only shrugged, thinking nothing of it as a big deal. "But it was dismissed by the court as void before any of us were ever even born. Before the modern time; before the stele was more commonly used, the witchlight could have been called a _spirit medium_."

"Of course, a rock couldn't manifest a spirit;" He added when he read Clary's question before she even raised it. "Witchlights were said to be able to house spirits, much like the seraph blades we use, but more primitive.. And dangerous,"

"How so?" Clary prepped.

"Well," Creases formed somewhere in Jace's head. He was thinking hard about this one. "Witchlights are indeed able to contain a spirit; it doesn't have to be an old spirit, it can be one that has just died recently, or one who wanders the world, unable to cross the bar. They can serve as containers for these spirits, preserving them. It was actually quite a controversial thing when we learned about it, but Hodge never expounded on the topic." Jace's eyes were set down upon remembering his old adviser.

"How was it controversial?" Clary asked a little dumbly..  
Jace didn't seem to be bothered.  
"All the spirits the witchlights housed couldn't be taken out anymore." Jace's lips were restrained and tight.

He was a little spooked by it.  
Clary on the other hand felt every hair on her body shiver with goose bumps.

Letting the cold eerie feeling subside, Jace went on.  
"Now that mostly all nephilims rely on runes, steles, and swords powered by angels—the witchlight's purpose had been lowered to merely lighting purposes."

Clary's eyes shot up. "But can they—?" Burn was such a strong word, but Clary wondered why it didn't seem to define the feeling, entirely.  
"I don't know." Jace seemed unsure, indeed. "It is certainly possible, but so far—it's only been a heavy piece of stone that bulks up my pockets."

Clary was just about to justify about something when he pulled out a rock from his jeans' pocket and placed it on her hand. It was circular in shape, and very smooth.

"See?"

The world around Clary soon began to rotate, but leaving her out of the loop; it was like she was stuck in a nauseating carousel ride, endlessly going round and around and around.

"I must be loosing my mind," Clary brought the stone closer to inspect it.  
She was positively sure it was a witchlight she saw awhile ago. She assumed that since it was in Jace's pocket then it must have been his—but now that she carefully thought it through, Clary found it an anomaly that she never felt the weight of it before, when she had put on the polo back upstairs.

Certainly, something the size of a rock weighed more than cotton.  
How come up till the moment it burned through the fabric, she felt nothing but her absolute nakedness against herself?  
It was as if it appeared out of nowhere.

"I could have sworn it was a witchlight—which I though was yours—I had thrown after it burned me." Clary didn't even have the coherence to pick out less insane-sounding words.

"You're hurt?" Jace moved closer to her, taking the sleeve on her left side, tugging at it slightly. It revealed Clary's bare neck; and rather than her old chicken pox scar, nothing blemished her skin.

Clary shook her head, slightly embarrassed Jace went and partially undressed her (though he's done it before) She pulled the sleeve up herself, resting her hand against his.  
Jace laced his fingers with hers and nodded. He looked relieved.

"I threw it over there, near the—" Clary pointed to that spot on the floor. Jace didn't need to stand and move to get a good bird's eye view because, clear as day, there it was—the dark, irregularly shaped witchlight stone.

* * *

It astonished Clary as to how on earth her mother was absorbing all the reverend was bawling at her.

Even though it was basically just a dry run of the wedding ceremony (meaning they just finalized who goes where and argued over who's first in line in walking down the isle.) Clary felt the stress of it all agitate her by the minute.

And to top it off, the reverend, Tom was his name, didn't do much to help her calm down.  
"Now as for the person giving you away—" Reverend Tom, a 30 year old man living for 20 years in New Orleans, said as if he was pressed for time. The busy lifestyle must have rubbed off on him—either that or he had a little too much coffee to drink this morning.

"Oh, Reverend Tom, I wanted to discuss that with you." It was Jocelyn. She hurried to catch up with the pastor, who unconcernedly seemed to dart past every checkpoint of the huge church. "I have no living relatives left _so_ I was thinking Maryse could—"

"That is unnecessary, Ms Jocelyn. Mrs. Lightwood has far many tasks assigned to keep her busy enough; adding one more would surely disrupt the flow of the wedding."

"Oh," Jocelyn said in a hush voice. Nevertheless, she kept throwing options. "Well, what about Robert Light—?"

Before the sentence could be completed, Jocelyn smacked head first into Reverend Tom's huge beer belly. He had turned abruptly, and his face seemed to abhor what Clary's mom had suggested. He looked at her like she had said an unholy word in the Angel's dwelling place. (Well, they were in the angel's dwelling place but Jocelyn hadn't said anything that could be classified as 'unholy' so it was an unlikely, but quite ironic, comparison.)

"Ms. Jocelyn!" He spat at her, and Jocelyn wasn't sure how to react to his sudden outburst.  
"A giving away ceremony is, for me, as important a step in the whole process as the speaking of vows—over there Ms. Penhallow—now, dear, it isn't just passed on to the next pair of arms willing to take the load. _No_," The tone in his already ragged voice dropped to a growl of disapproval. "I said _andante_ not _crescendo_!"

Jocelyn blinked befuddled at its highest degree. What on earth was the madman talking about? She was talking about _people_—not music notes!

Reverend Tom gave a small scowl, but it was a patient one. "Please do the ceremony a little justice, Mr. Way—no, Morgen—wait, Light—Jace; yes, Jace, that works." He nodded fiercely, quite pleased with his own decision. He didn't seem to know Jace was already officially a Lightwood.

Jace didn't bother correcting him, but he did roll his eyes and tried not to break the piano as he shifted to a moderately slow tempo.  
When Reverend Tom heard the soft melody and was content with it, he turned back to finish his sermon to Jocelyn.

"It is a must for the one who gives you away to be someone you consider as family—"

"The Lightwoods _are _–" Jocelyn piped.  
"—that aren't already busy with arrangements—" Tom countered.  
"—Amatis isn't—"  
"—that is a blood relative of yours."  
Jocelyn wanted to strangle the man, to the point of getting his neck to turn into the shade of blue.

"Didn't I just say I didn't have a living—?" All too vivid imaginations of throwing Tom over a cliff or yelling at him flashed through Jocelyn's mind like cardiograph lines.

"Better, Lightwood!" He called Jace by family name. "Keep those notes going—well who is it going to be then, dear? Hurry now; I'm a patient man, but we have many faults to fill in before we can call this wedding successful!"

As Clary observed form afar, she knew Tom meant well—but the murderous stare Jocelyn openly showed made Clary think that the poor man would get a piece of shadowhunter fists if he kept on doing what he's doing.

"But—" Jocelyn began weakly.  
The Reverend gasped. "There are no buts in this, Ms Jocelyn! There are no doubts in the Sacrament of Matrimony; if you—"

"I have no doubts about my marriage!" Her voice released a tide of emotions.  
The Reverend seemed pleased, and clapped his hands delicately.  
"That's the spirit! Now about—" He went on talking casually as if the previous conversation hadn't happened at all.

Oh yes, strangling the guy wasn't far from soon.  
Clary figured she'd give it a shot, so she stood up from the pew she was sitting in to walk over to her mother, who looked like she needed serious therapy.

When she arrived at a good hearing distance form them, the words she caught were _flower girls_ and _rosemary petals.  
_"Mom," The Reverend turned directly, as if he was the one being called.  
"I could be the one to give you away. I meet all the requirements anyway." Considered as family, check; blood related, check.

Jocelyn blinked four times, then her lips seemed to quiver into a smile, the first time since she and the reverend had been sparring.  
"I couldn't have thought of something so perfect." Her voice spoke the truth.

Naturally, the mother daughter moment was destroyed when Reverend Tom screeched out in agony. Both _Frays _were distracted by this and turned to look at him stomping over to where the grand piano was positioned.

"Didn't I say to keep it away from crescendo?" Jace had stopped playing but he kept his eyes on the keys. He was preparing himself for the blow. "What is this, a merry making gala? Because the sound I just heard reminded me of night dances, and ballet recitals!" He turned only for a short moment to eye Clary carefully, then he nodded.

"Well, it is settled then—but don't think you will be freed from your duties as the maid of honor, Ms—" Despite Clary being famous for her creation of the rune that saved everyone, it was comforting to know she wasn't completely a caged zoo-animal to the public.

"Clary," Two voices overlapped Clary's. The first was Jocelyn's.  
The second was Jace's.

The reverend nodded again, and twisted so that Clary only faced his back.  
Bless you Jace, Clary thought patronizingly. If he hadn't deliberately changed the beats and got the reverend's undivided attention on him, instead of chattering away whatever was left of her mother's sanity, and better judgment—Reverend Tom would have to retire early.  
Points for Clary too, for building up the courage to stand by her mother!

Clary caught Jocelyn's smile at JAce, mouthing a big Thank you at the boy who was being sprayed with spit and rectification by the Reverend.

"I feel sorry for the poor guy." A voice said from behind Clary.  
It had a familiar, clipped accent. Jia Penhallow.  
And beside her was her daughter, Aline.

"Maryse wants you to come over to the altar. She said you needed to finalize your vows, and take the oath of honor; also spend prayer time in front of the Angel Raziel." Jia relayed evenly.

Most shadowhunters were loving beings, but they weren't known to be a higher kind of warm and fuzzy. Jocelyn though was an exemption.  
"Sure!" She stopped mid way toward Jia and looked back at Clary. "Thank you, baby; I'll see you later!" Jocelyn's usual smile had come back into her face. Better, this way; homicidal stares didn't seem to suit her as much.

Clary waved her goodbye and Jia goodbye too.  
When they departed, she was left with Aline.

Aline cocked her head to either side of Clary, and lolled her head, confusedly.  
"Where's Isabelle?" she asked.

Clary moved a little closer to Aline. They walked as they both made their way to a random pew.  
"She had to go somewhere." Clary didn't say anymore.

"Does it have anything to do with your Daylighter friend?" Aline gave a follow-up question.

Clary shrugged her shoulders. She and Aline were in good terms, it was just that she didn't like remembering how callous Simon's words were. Clary, deep inside herself, still wanted to believe everything was still alright, and that Simon and Isabelle's world wasn't shattering on the spot.

"What made you say that?" Clary said instead.  
Aline heard her name being hollered by Reverend Tom, and she stood up almost tiredly. When she turned to Clary, Clary thought she looked like one of the faeries in the Seelie Court; her eyes were sure, and knowing.

"I don't know," she said. "I just see the way she looks at him, and all."

* * *

**PREVIEW OF GLAMOURS CHAPTER 6 PART 2: (A/N: the preview IS NOT the opening lines for the next chapter.)  
**  
_The portal closed, and as if used to this sort of thing, Clary offhandedly flipped through the pages. Unsurprisingly, most of the pages were still empty.  
She had her work cut out for her if she wanted to fill up the entire booklet.  
And that was the fun part of the whole project._

**A/N: **Alright, I already lost track of who were the last to review but thank you so much all those who reviewed me! (You guys know who you are ... and i do believe i gave messages and stuff to those who weren anonymous! :D for those who were... THANK YOU SO MUUCHH!! :D:D

Please wait while chapter 6 part 2 is being processed....------------------------------------------------------------------  
COUNTDOWN TO _48 HOURS_!(maximum) :D:D


	8. Chapter 6 part 2

Aline was called again, this time, Tom's voice was modulated across the room, making it a dozen times louder. (Amplifying rune) Aline grunted and waved Clary goodbye before stalking over to the far end of the church.

Aline was one of the bridesmaids. Unlike the normal setting for a mundane wedding (where the bridesmaids need to be escorted down the isle by a guy) a shadowhunter wedding didn't seem to require that, much at all. The ones that were married were obliged to do so—but the children usually carried sacred items—in this wedding's case, the Soul Sword, the Mortal Cup, and the precious veil that the maids of honor (a maximum of two) would drape over the couple to be wed. To Clary, this would be a magical experience. She has never seen a Shadowhunter's marriage ceremony take place before, and she wanted to make a whole lot of memories. It was too bad cameras didn't work in Alicante; which is why she decided to take up journal writing!

She also brought with her a new sketchpad (Luke had given it to her when she finished the other three he bought her for Christmas, her birthday, and her Congratulations-for-being-a-shadowhunter party.) She planned on documenting the whole event, not just by words, but by drawings too. She already drew her mother's wedding gown (getting the detail was the hardest part) and the ring Luke gave her when he proposed. As well as the car that the guards in Alicante had to push to get into the gates because the engine stopped working almost a meter away from the city, itself. (Technology or electronics didn't seem to work, but how Izzy managed to get a cell phone reception baffled Clary up till now.)

Clary thought it would make a great wedding present for her mom and Luke. Luke had always enjoyed looking at whatever Clary drew, and Jocelyn seemed very pleased that her daughter inherited her talent. (She wanted Clary to take painting as a summer class last year, and Clary did, since it didn't rival with her training as a shadowhunter.)

Clary drew out her stele and began drawing a rune in mid air. Then, magically, a small portal hole appeared in front of her; it was big enough for her entire arm to reach in and when she took it out again, her hand held a small rectangular object.

The portal closed, and as if used to this sort of thing, Clary offhandedly flipped through the pages. Unsurprisingly, most of the pages were still empty.  
She had her work cut out for her if she wanted to fill up the entire booklet.  
And that was the fun part of the whole project.

She brought out a small pencil, and using one of the clean pages—she began sketching Reverend Tom howling at Jace.  
It was accurate, since she was sketching as she saw it.

Reverend Tom would obviously be only drawn from the back. He had her back to her, so only a fat oblong shape was what Clary had to work with. A darkly shaded swish would be at the lower right side—for the outline of the piano—and Jace would be behind it, with his head slightly cast downward. His hair, usually more yellow than sunflowers, looked even lighter and well-kept because his hair was brushed back causing no unwanted blond locks from invading his face. He had a hair cut a few days before they left for Alicante. His eyes, from the limelight looked incandescent and appeared standoffish as they looked directly at Tom. The curve of Jace's lips was not so aloof though; they seemed to bend slightly upward, into what seemed like interest. Clary could only imagine what interesting thing Reverend Tom could possibly say to Jace.  
His shirt, a dark blue jacked over it, was white and seemed plain from afar. If you looked closely, the collar was a V-neck type.

Clary held the sketch in front of her and inspected it.  
As usual, she gave a little too much detail on Jace.  
Clary closed her sketchbook and decided she'll work out the finer details later on.

"Clary," Clary felt burning within her heart, and she grasped it, long and hard. She couldn't see what was inside her, she couldn't define what was happening to her, but what she did know was that somehow, that witchlight stone managed to get to her within—and right now, it's eating her alive.

"Clary," the person repeated, and set a hand down on Clary's shoulder; at exactly the same moment, the pain ceased. Clary coughed violently.

"Are you alright? Do you need cough medicine?" The person patted her back; a shake in her voice was well evident.

"No, I-It was just that you scared me…" Clary looked over to the mystery person. "… Amatis." Clary felt a catch between every breath she took; it blocked some parts of her air passages.

Amatis gave an odd look. "That is the second time you have told me that, Clary." Amatis shook her head and held Clary up. "Here, drink this." She held out a small wrapped thing.

"Is this an old shadowhunter remedy?" Clary asked, taking the small piece and unwrapping it.

Amatis only shook her head.  
"It's chocolate," Amatis said. "They always help in stressful times. I've had about 4 pieces in the last 3 hours alone."

Clary nodded feeling, and surely looking, like she was an idiot. She plopped the candy into her mouth and began chewing.  
The sweet sugary taste of chocolate whizzed through her system like a drug. The taste left her glands watering when she finally decided to swallow it—and in a simple way, Amatis knew exactly how to help her.

"Thanks, I really needed that." Clary felt the contraction in her rib cage subside.

"Ofcourse," Amatis said uncomfortable by the conversation, for some inexplicable reason. "Well, I have to go—the Reverend wants me to go over the decorations with Maryse; I only stopped by to tell you all that the Penhallows are back and they want to sponsor the lunch later." she relayed.

Well, Clary already knew the Penhallows were back. (She and Aline just had a very tame conversation not too long ago) But she nodded at Amatis and said Ok. After that, Amatis didn't say more, and without a goodbye or see you later, she moved away from Clary and out the huge double doors of the cathedral.

"—ALRIGHT! THAT'S IT FOR TODAY! PLEASE VACATE THE CHURCH BECAUSE WE ARE THROUGH WITH THIS SESSION OF THE DRY-RUN! PLEASE PROCEED TO THE PENHALLOW'S ESTATE FOR A LUNCH CATERING!" Reverend Tom's loud booming voice was magnifying itself across the room.

Slowly, rising footsteps sounded and headed for the same exit Amatis took. They passed by Clary, like it was ordinary for any person to stand there in the center of the isle staring after the door, a blank and empty expression fixate don her face.

Clary clutched at her heart again, and felt the even thumping of it. No interfering feeling of sting; no difficulty with even breaths. The witchlight was back in Amatis' house, tucked inside a drawer in her room—unless rocks could walk, then it would have been a crazy notion to suggest that it simply appeared out of nowhere and into your internal circulatory system.

Clary thought she was having hysteria; first she hallucinates, then she feels dizzy and apprehensive—now, a new one, she's hearing sounds in her head; a soft rhythmic flow of a timeless melody.

Clary couldn't help herself but indulge in it. If she was loosing her wits, she might as well enjoy herself while she was. The piano solo was beautiful. Clary knew her mind was creative, but she never thought her imagination could conjure up something this, this…

Clary spun around just as the notes began flying into a higher and dramatic climax.

Jace sat by the piano, striking the keys like a mad genius; his eyes were closed, his expression easy and relaxed, but when his fingers ran by the keys, passion seemed to radiate from him.

Clary felt herself being drawn to him, and like a magnetic pole, attracted to him until she was standing beside were he sat. Jace retreated into a soft hymn again; his song was ending, and though Clary didn't want it to, she couldn't see herself complaining.  
Jace knew how to end it without actually making it seem like it had to be finished.

Ever so slowly, he light-touched the last few keys, and finishing it with his hands resting on top of them.  
Clary silently slipped in to sit beside him.

"I already know how to play the different church symphonies he assigned me. I didn't need to practice awhile ago." His eyes were still closed as he spoke.

"Then why did you change your crescendos and what-nots then?"  
Clary didn't move. She didn't even breathe. She waited for Jace to open his eyes.

"I wanted," Slowly, his eyelids rose, and after a beat or two, he turned to look at Clary. They weren't touching.  
He moved closer to her, enough so his left hand could caress her face once. Then he set it back unto his side.  
"I wanted to practice on this." he said.

"This?" Clary asked.  
He turned back to the piano, but from this view, Clary saw that he was breaking into a smile.  
"_This_," he repeated.

Then he played the very melody he did awhile ago.

He turned to her again, his eyes aglow. "I've been working on it for quite some time now… I didn't want to tell I'd been working on such a thing for you, because I didn't want to spoil the surprise. And also because when I would finally want you to hear this, I wanted it to be perfect." he said, as he played the wondrous sonata.

"Working on it—for me?" Clary didn't know it, but silent tears were pouring from her eyes.  
Jace frowned slightly and stopped playing.  
He raised both his hands and cupped Clary's face in them. Slowly, he brushed the tears away—slowly, he entered her heart, and stayed there.

Clary laughed, and sobbed. It didn't seem possible, but right now it seemed right.  
"Why did you stop?" she spoke, her voice barely a whisper.  
Jace touched his forehead to hers, a gesture so loving and tender Clary could weep over, and dried her eyes when more tears began to fall.

"Don't cry, Clary." he soothed. "_Carina_ wasn't supposed to make you cry."  
Clary jolted instantly, an expression of disgust in her face "Who the hell is _Carina_?!"

Jace rolled his eyes and pinched her cheek. "Stop being so loud in a church, you idiot; Really Clary, does my presence really strip you of your common knowledge?" he told her softly.

"Don't touch me!" Clary pushed herself away from him. Angrily, she pointed at him. "And I'm not the idiot! You're the idiot! What you said made no sense, at all." Though it was pretty clear for her; Jace had a different woman in his mind. A certain bitch named Carina.

"Keep your voice down—you'll bring back Reverend Tom." Jace said fearfully.  
"Bring back Tom?—or Carina?" Clary said the last word with much hatred.

Jace chuckled as a response. "You sound jealous." He sounded amused. The bastard sounded _amused_. "You think I like someone else?" he said as if reading her wordless cries.

"You said that! Not me! This only proves that clearly men are unable to stay commited for too long!" Clary felt her heart burn out. She couldn't imagine how her life would be without Jace, anymore. She couldn't bear it. But she also couldnt bear the thought of him thinking about someone else while they were together; someone he would consider as a romantic interest.

"Did it?" His tone suggested that he had more up his sleeve. No signs of hurt on his face. Clary could cry right now; did he really not care about her as much anymore? Has he ever?

"Yes, it did." Clary said in finality; a lump in her throat rising. "It also proves you're a pompous butt." she actually added. In those words, the sputter of hurt leaked out a bit.

Jace burst out laughing. When his outburst died down, he looked at Clary again, this time like a parent who was about to explain something funny to his kid.

"Come here, Clary." There was no malice or tease in his voice, but simple request.  
"Why should I?" Clary backed away.  
He smiled kindly at her; he had his arms outstretched towards her, welcoming her into his embrace.

She didn't know if she still belonged there. She didn't know if he still belonged to her.  
After all, it never made much sense that something like Jace could ever love a Clary like her.

"Come here, Clary. Please," he said again. Clary took a step forward, and when Jace could finally reach, he pulled her toward him and hugged her fiercely.

"Idiot." He muttered against her hair. Clary heard him well enough.  
"Pompous butt." she tossed back.

"You know Carina means beloved in Latin." he said as if she didn't just curse him. "Maryse told me that. I liked the name, so I decided to use it."

"For what?" Clary said, against his chest. His heart was still beating evenly.

"For the piano piece I wanted to serenade you with." He kissed her forehead. "Originally, I wanted to simply call it Clarissa, since you know, your name—but then I figured it was not my style. Very corny—I'm not corny; I'm hip."

Clary still kept silent.

"When I was working on some of the lines in the piece—you were with Izzy at that time; it was her turn to train you—Maryse walked in on me. I didn't tell her what I intended to do, but she asked me if I was making one of my own composition. I told her yes, and she said 'it's really a tender melody. Anyone could fall in love with it.' I told her that was what I was aiming for. She laughed. Then, I guess she sort of figured I was making it for _you_ since she told me 'Clary must be really lucky to be beloved by you so much.' I told her you were adored by everyone and she thought for a second I was describing you as a goddess." He laughed at that point.

"It isn't entirely false, mind you. You're similar to being my goddess since practically my life revolves around you, and I protect you and fight in your name." He tilted her chin upward so she was looking at him. Clary couldn't escape the trap Jace's eyes set up for hers.

"Maryse said she had a better idea, a much more creative title compared to just Clarissa—she searched through books and proposed that we use a screen name for the piece I was making. She said you'd never figure it out—and exactly as she said, your reaction was priceless. The _pompous butt_ comment was a nice touch, by the way." Absently, JAce began to toy with her hair again; it twirled around his fingers before finally slipping away.

"Carina was the closest to Clarissa which meant beloved. We used that word because that's what you are to me, Clary—you are the most precious thing to me. You are my one and _only_ beloved."

Clary's silence lasted for three whole minutes, but Jace was patient; he simply held her, and in between those three to four minutes, he began to hum to her. It was the melody of _Carina_.

Finally, Clary spoke. "So Carina isn't a real person?"  
"Oh, yeah, she is." Jace said, letting her go but still one arm draped over her. He smiled. "She's right here beside me."

Clary laughed now. The tension she felt was replaced by embarassment. "I'm sorry I was being jealous. I feel really stupid right now."  
Against him, Clary could feel his stomach vibrate into a laugh. "Clary," Jace said right after.

"Yeah?"  
"Will you let me finish playing for you?" he asked.

Clary's heart stiffened up. "You still want to? Even after—after my little episode?"  
He gave her one knowing glance before releasing her from their contact to place his long fingers back on the keyboard.

"I worked on this for two months straight. You're going to listen whether you wish to or not." Strangely, his words comforted her.

Clary laughed a little louder now; the sound echoed over the room.  
"Go,"

And he did, and for the first time in hours, Clary didn't feel like nervous, scared, disheveled, hurt, or heartbroken.  
As she leaned to rest her head on his shoulder, she only felt peace.

* * *

**FINAL A/N: **Alriiiiiiiggghhhtttt!! I finally finished it! :D Ok, people, Chapter 6 part 2 is finally at an end right HERE :D

So did you like it, wa sit cheesey? (you dont need to review mo on the fac tit was cheesey because I pretty much figured it was SUPER CHEESEY ... jace was totally cheesy! but I couldnt help it :) I wanted to show the sid eof him that played that grand piano and th escene wouldnt be as developed or intenstified if i didnt put a little CORNY AND CHEESEYNESS in it :D Plus, Clary wasnt having the best day of her life...how?  
Well, she got burned, she hallucinated, and then she got burned again--- I didnt want to break that strong emotion by putting a JAceClary perfect relationship part as the finale :) (besides, i wanted to poke some fun at them a little :D)

So agaIN, please forgive the corny lines and un-jace-like attitude. but now that you read this, try looking back at the CoG... didnt JAce get all corny and lovey-dovey with clary with his proclamation of love when he told her he didnt want to dettach himself form her even if he wanted to :)? Think of this scene as LIKE THAT and probably it'll make a bit more sense :)

NO REVIEW-- NO UPDATE! :) Please give me a review and tell me what you think about this chappie and what not and if it was any good-- please say so! If it wasnt as you expected, or you wanted osmething better, just tell me and Ill try to fix the problem as much as I can! :D

If you're wondering what Carina sounds like, I was actually listening to Final Fantasy 9's Melodies of Life when I wrote that bit... becaus eit was the background music for our Picture Essay in school :)

Its really pretty :)  
Alright! Thanks my lovely reviewers! Guys! I already posted Redemption in the Crossover category and its there rotting because I still need to make more on it... if you want ot read it, visint my profile and find it there kay :D

Well, I'll update when I get good reviews and when I actually get around to typing the next installment :D  
Love you all all all all! :D  
To the next chapteeeeerrr!!!!!!


	9. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Hey guys! So sorry for the super lame chapter ive been making :) heehee I think that this is the part where all the serious stuff happen so I worked my way on that. But i hope you still enjoy everything else and this wasnt a very dragging and annoying story for you :D hahahah

Guess what! Its my birthday tomorrow! YAY! and for my bday--id love it if you all gave me reviews! :D  
NO REVIEW NO UPDATE (strictly)

so if you liked this story or are curious enough to see how it ends-- please do review me and give me some colorful commentary :) (constructive criticism is welcome too, dearies! :D)

This is the chapter which sets the semi-major plot a-go. :D (the major one is well... still a secret. Even i myself dont know what the hell it is :D hahaha)

Once again, TMI isnt mine-- nor do I own them and any of the facts in the story.... CASSANDRA CLARE OWNS THEM.. I'm just playing with them for a while :D

Kay~ enough about random lady-dahs.... scroll down and behold~ GLAMOURS CHAPTER 7!

* * *

**Glamours;**_  
a spell or energy of illusion used to hide or disguise beings_

The first day of wedding preparations started stressfully, and it ended that way, too. After Jace and Clary went to join in lunch, the bridal entourage had to go to the seamstress to get the final fitting in the dresses. The color motif was orange and green, and lucky for Clary she looked good in both colors. Green was the color of her eyes, and her hair sort of closed in near orange, anyway. She may not have Aline's cat-like poise, or Isabelle's 'banging body'—but at least she could honestly say that the look was really for her more than for them.

Isabelle's gown wasn't taken out by the seamstresses since she wasn't around anyway, but the one who fitted Aline had scolded her. (Apparently Aline had gained a little weight, and the dress sort of hitched right at her hips.)

Right after that, everyone returned to Reverend Tom's abode (the chapel) to continue whatever else needed polishing. And Jocelyn, who had it the worst, tried very hard to avoid touchy thoughts when she was talking to the Reverend (for example: wedding décor, lighting, time, and murder.)

But in the end, the bunch had only gotten by one run through (music, lights, and choir included) because it was really late at night and everyone needed to go home.

But Jocelyn needed to finish her vows by tonight (by strict accordance from the high and powerful Reverend Tom.) So at 10:30 pm, Clary found herself waiting for her mom in the Penhallow's living room. She could hear her mother's voice echoing from the kitchen, which was where she, Maryse, Jia, and Amatis were discussing.

Clary knew right now was the best time to sleep, but the ambiance in the room seemed to refrain her from doing so.

"Ah, peaceful night tonight isn't it, Alec?" There was an edge in Magnus' voice which made Alec flinch. There were two couches in the living room; both facing each other. Alec and Magnus were seated in the same couch, but at the farthest ends from each other. And seated in the other couch were Clary, Jace, and Chairman Meow.

_God, was everyone's relationship going through a crisis this week? _Clary thought. Then she eyed Jace from the corner of her vision but thought better of herself and turned away.

_Jace and I are just fine. We're going to stay fine for as long as we can be together.  
_Clary repeated the words over and over in her head, but something about Simon having a grudge against Izzy, and Magnus' obviously unconcealed antagonism toward Alec made the statement seem like a distant whisper in her ear.

Right on cue, an arm draped around her—and suddenly the words came back, so clear it was like they were said right in her ear.

"Magnus, you're not being fair to Alec—" Jace scolded. "Can't you see he's already affected by all this stress caused by the wedding? I mean look at his clothing—he doesn't even have the decency to pick a pair of jeans that doesn't have rat holes in them."

Magnus looked appalled. "Stupid shadowhunter—those aren't rat holes. They're fashionable! Far fashionable than what he would have worn if I hadn't intervened!"

"I can't say Alec has the best taste in clothing in the world—but I think a faded green sweater-thing is much more normal than jeans which fit snuggly to your butt."

"They don't fit snuggly to my ass!—and those weren't green! They were black!" Alec shrieked.  
Magnus turned to him, and Alec froze immediately.

Magnus' cat-like eyes surveyed Alec's jeans and indeed, they were fit snuggly to his ass. Clary held her breath, and her eyes seemed to follow Magnus. Jace, who was beside her, didn't have the faintest worry in his eyes—but the way he slowly tapped his fingers onto Clary's shoulder gave him away.

That was so like Jace. He was such a tender guy, but he chose to befit a character which appeared almost haughty and proud. Men really do come from Mars.  
There was so much silence and stillness in the room that Chairman Meow must have found it annoying because he hissed and jumped off the couch and into the kitchen.

By the way, Chairman Meow was a secondary sponsor in the wedding. (That still befuddled Clary because how on earth could a cat swathe the linen cloth over Jocelyn and Luke if he was only a few centimeters taller than a foot stool?) But Magnus seemed to burst in confidence that his fat tabby could manage.

Magnus stood and walked over to Alec. Alec didn't move a muscle. Magnus was hovering over him, and after what seemed like two minutes—he raised his hand and rested it on top of Alec's head.  
Alec relaxed entirely after that. He sighed outwardly, which obviously showed how relieved he was that Magnus didn't hate him completely.

At least, nobody _thought_ Magnus hated him completely.

Clary watched the exchange silently. She didn't want to interfere because it was on something she had no right to opinion over. Magnus' face didn't seem to free itself of its scowl—despite the gesture.

"You need a new wardrobe—don't; if you resist, I won't forgive you anymore." said Magnus.  
Clary felt her breath get caught up again, and she involuntarily coughed.

Immediately, she regretted she had; Magnus turned his head, and pinned her with his stare. It wasn't angry, nor was it cold—it was worse; he had his naughty grin back on.

"And while we're on the topic on what Alec should wear—why don't we figure out what you should wear as well, Clary dear?" he said, slowly emphasizing _wear_ and _Clary_.

Clary felt Jace stiffen—and it appears that this was Magnus' way of vengeance toward him.  
After all, nobody insults the Bane's manner of dressing (even though it seemed quite overly-extravagant every time.)

"Hey, Clary dresses just fine—" Jace began but Magnus was two steps ahead of him. Before he could even finish the sentence, Magnus already crooked his finger at Clary; and like an invisible force was lifting Clary from the couch to beside him, only in an interval of four seconds.

Jace's hair swished as he looked from the empty seat beside him and to Magnus; his mouth gaping, his eyes blaring.

Magnus smiled wickedly. "Don't worry, stupid shadowhunter," he attached Jace with the nickname. "By the end of this make-over—the way she looks will be stuck in your head forever."

As Magnus led a confused Clary and a uncomfortable Alec up the steps, Jace sank into the couch, rubbing his temples.

"That's what I'm worried about!" he shrieked at their retreating figures.

* * *

"I'm very insulted by the little faith your boyfriend has in me, Clary dear." Magnus told her before he pushed her inside a room. He closed the door and locked it with a spell.

"Why'd you lock the door?" Alec demanded.  
"To make sure you don't escape." Magnus made it sound normal that he could just lock two people in a room, terrified of the fate of their clothes.

"And to make sure, _he_ doesn't do anything funny like break his little girlfriend out, I placed a charm on the stairs so he could only climb down it, and not up." Magnus was obviously referring to Jace.

"Jace would still attempt to climb through the window, you know." Clary reasoned.  
"Yeah—because he'd rather die falling down a two-story house than see his beloved get some highlights in her locks." Magnus said sarcastically, but he was moving toward the window and began tracing it with his finger.

"You're putting highlights in my hair?" Clary grasped a bunch of her red mane and silently treasured these last few moments with them.  
"Again—you're lack of faith in me troubles me, my dear." He opened a closet and scowled.

"These will never do—look at these!" Clary looked. There were around dozens of dresses, mini skirts and tank tops as well as different varieties of tight jeans dangling from hangers inside.

And Clary had a wild guess on who owns them.  
"Is this Isabelle's room?" she asked.

Magnus smiled. "I'm sure she wouldn't have minded that you borrowed her clothes—but these outfits would never fit you as they would her." He walked over to her and with a flick of his finger—Clary rose at attention.

"Stop doing that!" Clary's request was unrequited.

"See, you have a slim straight figure—she has this curvy one; so naturally, she buys clothes which suite her body structure. If you wore for example her top, it would be like a dress for you because obviously, with your height, that's pretty much what will happen. See, the best we can do right now, is take a button down shirt for the top, and you'll have to stick with wearing heels and skinnies. Do you have any skinnies?" He didn't wait for Clary to answer though. "It's alright, I'll poof you up some skinnies; ones with glitter. Yes, glitter would look good on you."

He snapped his fingers and a huge cabinet landed quietly on the ground. Magnus opened it, and inside were a huge collection of fur and clothing for both man and woman.

"You're abusing the power of being a High Warlock, you know." Clary complained, but Magnus seemed unfazed.  
"I've been alive for thousands of years—and when you've been alive that long, you learn two things," he said, occasionally tossing tops to Clary or to Alec.

"And those are?" Alec said, a huge pile of clothes piling in front of him.  
"First, the straight world gets boring." He eyed Alec—and Clary swore the boy turned a different shade.

"And what's the second?" Clary asked.  
"Second is that you don't become a High Warlock unless you know how to wheedle your way out of charges from the Ministry of Magic."

He threw something at Clary, and she caught it. It was a black-laced thong.  
Surprisingly, Alec was the first to react.

"Damn! Those are really… _small_." he said. Magnus burst out laughing.  
"That was very poetic of you, Alec. Thanks," Clary narrowed her eyes at him, and he took a step back.

"Sorry Clary," Alec looked sincerely apologetic. "It was a spur of the moment thing. It was just that, it was so—"  
"Yeah. _Small_. I heard."

Alec's face sort of lit up into a smile, and Clary realized he was already easing up towards her.  
Alec wasn't very good towards her before (when he was going through his in-love-with-Jace phase) but slowly, they made their way to being civil around each other, and eventually, they got along and could actually stand to be in the same room as each other.

And at this moment, they were both victims of a terrible Magnus adaptation of Project Runway.

"Alright, that's enough, my pets! Go change into those!—Oh, don't even bother saying we're both male Clary—we're gay, so we wont really care if you stripped yourself right now. Wait, Alec would care—he's too moral." said Magnus.

"What, you aren't moral?" Alec asked him.  
"Love, I've had years to flush it out of my system." He smiled sweetly at Alec, and gave his cheek a soft tap.

"But if Clary wants to rid herself of her undergarments alone—" He flung his hand into the direction of the huge cabinet. "—you are quite welcome to enter that."

Clary emerged from the cabinet a few minutes later wearing a tight pink night dress and huge bunny slippers. Her back was almost bare, except for the spaghetti strap. There was a dropping neck line and the breast pad seemed to make her _asset_ look twice its size. Was that a good thing; she didn't know.

Clary just stood still, unmoving while looking at Magnus.  
"What are you staring it?" Magnus asked.

Clary blinked. "I'm waiting for you to realize the error of your ways and decide to give me something decent to wear; instead of… _this_." She pointed at the costume.

"Join the club." It was Alec who replied. Clary observed him, and thought his transformation didn't look half bad.

Alec wasn't an ugly person—it was just that he didn't care much about looking good on the outside and sometimes didn't care if the shirt was faded and or out of style when he wears them.

"Aw, look at you—you're like one of those house bunnies in the Playboy Mansion!" Clary wasn't sure if Magnus was referring to her or to Alec, but she scoffed anyway and said, "Shut up."

Magnus glided to her and fixed her hair.  
"You may be telling me that now, Clary dear—but I know that this is actually making you feel better." He stood up straight now, and Clary noticed how much taller the Bane was compared to her. But then again, everyone was mostly taller than her.

He clutched her shoulders. "And though your boyfriend may not be able to sleep tonight, due to his dubiousness on my capabilities—I believe he's quite happy that you're finally at ease right now." Magnus squeezed her slightly into a half hug and waltzed over beside his boyfriend.

Clary felt her knees give out. "W-what?"

Alec smiled kindly at her. "Jace mentioned that something was bothering you—ever since you got here in Alicante, you've been restless according to him. He even gone out of his way to pry Luke out of information and be like a pack mule just so he could keep an eye on you for a night. He was very worried."

Clary's mouth opened but nothing came out.  
Magnus sat down on Izzy's bed and crossed his legs.

"But hey, don't give him all the credit for this fabulous 'bonding time' we've just had. This was 100 percent _my_ idea." Magnus said.

"Thank you." Clary managed to say. It was true; she felt a little better. She thought about Jace and how much he must still love her, though it didn't make sense why, he still did—and a lot too.

Clary thought about how many other people had touched her life. Not just Jace, or Magnus or Alec; but Simon, Izzy, her mother, Luke, The Lightwoods and everyone else—downworlders and shadowhunters alike.  
Clary thought about how much everyone would risk for each other.

But even as she smiled and thought about all those wonderful things, her eyes rolled back until they were just white.  
"Clary!" It was Alec. He screamed as Magnus ran towards her and shook her violently. Clary didn't even flinch. She was still in that scary trance.

"Wake up! Clary!—Alec, call Jace!" Clary didn't give any sign of breathing. Her chest wasn't rising; her eyes were blank and dead. "Call Jace, _now_!" Magnus sounded very much like the High Warlock of Brooklyn now: strong; in control; and worried.

"Come on Clary…" Magnus chanted. Alec, in the rush of adrenaline, didn't care if there was magic attached to the door; he tore it down by kicking at it—not caring if it woke the neighbors—and dashed downstairs in a sprint.

A few seconds passed and Magnus shook her again. "Come on," This time, he was ordering her to do so.

Clary took in a huge gasp of air and coughed. She lolled her head to look at Magnus in the eyes and in her orbs was an expression of fear and disbelief.

"Thank God—" Before Magnus could continue, Jace burst inside the room. He immediately picked out Clary amongst the pile of clothing and ran for her. Magnus passed the girl into his arms and he began to cradle her. Clary held his face in hers, grasping for words.

"Shh," Jace hugged her while he rocked back and forth. "You don't have to say anything yet. Just breathe in and out first. Calm down."  
"What the hell happened?" Jace asked Magnus. There wasn't irritation or anger in his voice; but plain and lucid concern.

"She was smiling." Alec said, out of breath, from the door frame. "God, she was just smiling a second earlier and then her eyes, they—I thought she was losing herself or something."

"Something like that." Clary mumbled. She closed her eyes, trying to make the pictures in her head go away.

"What did you see, Clary?" Jace asked, releasing Clary from the embrace to look at her.

She searched his eyes; she searched his soul; she tried to look into her own, and asked herself if she ever saw this coming?

"Sebastian…" Clary just focused on Jace's eyes when she spoke. "Jonathan—he took over my body."  
Clary broke her eye contact with Jace to look at her hands. They looked petit, and very pale.

Jace lifted her chin so she would be forced to look at him again. Clary's eyes were already burning. Her arms were shivering as if she was suffering from hypothermia.

"Tell me what you saw Clary." Jace repeated; his face was stone hard.  
The room was quiet, but Clary heard footsteps running up the stairs.

"Jonathan took over my body," Clary said. "And then he made me use the witchlight to kill you."  
What came next was a burst of tears, as she crumpled to the ground.

* * *

**FINAL A/N: **CLIFFHANGER!!! :D:D:D

hahahaha this is seriously getting to be a bad habit of mine :D Hey everyone! Did you like it? Did you hate it? Think it needs something more than just ... you know the classic SEBASTIAN IS BACK plot.

news flash--- this IS NOT A CLASSIC SEBASTIAN IS BACK PLOT :D:D:D

hahahaha go and read the summary again because this event has somethign to do with that :D but if you like to think Im cliche enough to make a SEBASTIAN IS BACK story~~ then go right ahead and believe that. :D

But if youre looking for a littl ebit of mysterious plot twists and turns~~ then figure it out by piecing the story together ok? :D I left little bits and clues in the previous chappies :) (hahaha and all this time, I thought you all thought I was just making this up as I went along... hah! thats like only HALF true :D:D:D)

hahah anyway~~ sinc eits christmas break I may be able to update faster! :D Just lemme add a chappie to Redemption before I move on to chappie 8 :D heehee

Read Redemption people! (its somewhere in my profile... or you could search TwilightTMI crossovers :D its there too. Its just a little side story related to Glamours :D and im experimenting SimonIsabelleMaia-ness pairings there :D)

Oh right! Thanks so much my glittery reviewers! (signed) **RoseTwilighterDP, Puppylove216, AradiaLoveless, -LifeLessWords- , LOLHaily, LeopardEyes, aquamysticwriter, Realbookaholic, FictionJunkiie, lenabeana **(unsigned) _Jen, Ash, and Ashley!  
_(these are the most recent :D I think heehee )

So you guys know the rule: NO REVIEW NO UPDATE! :D  
Reviews feed me and they make me push myself, even if it was really late at night, to continue this story! :D

Till next chapter everyone! xoxo


	10. Chapter 8

**A/N**: I'm probably the most boring person in the world... having left this thing untouched for weeks because of other extracurricular activities and the temptations of the internet :) I seriously spent WAY too much time playing games rather than doing anything seriosu (which totally explains why im going to decreas ein my report card this quarter T.T) but nevertheless, i bring to you this new chappie! :) yay!

Well, what do i need to say? oh, well, its really just an after-math of whatever happened with the whole Clary thing.... :) As of this moment, I have NOT written the next chappie... (not even done my homework yet.) but i ought to tell all of you right now, that NOT EVERYTHING IS WHAT IT SEEMS :) (yes, that is a song. hahaha) Sure, we all know i went for the oh so classic SEBASTIAN IS BACK plot thing...but really, do you think it'll be how this story ends? :) Again, remember the song by Selena Gomez. hahahah

Enough of random idiocy! (read and review ayt? NO REVIEW, NO UPDATE!! STRICTLY SPEAKING!) Thanks so much to the lovely reviewers btw! I love all of you! :) Such awesomeness i could hop. Which i cant. MY leg hurts :))

I've kept you waiting long enough... well, here's the after math of chappie 7, dudes.  
CHAPTER 8!~

* * *

**Glamours;  
**_a spell or energy of illusion used to hide or disguise beings._

Clary didn't want to sleep that night but for every time she closed her eyes, she'd see blood and fire. She'd feel the tears streaming down her face but her hands did little help in easing her own sorrow. They weren't hers anymore; they had a mind of their own. Her fingers would grip at the rough edges of the small witchlight, so hard she would feel her own blood oozing out. But her mind wouldn't register any pain. Numbness would take over and in her line of sight, only one figure would stand. Jonathan—Sebastian, whichever—his hair dark and contrasting the sun that shown overhead, would be there watching from a near distance. Anybody would know better than to think it was a sign of hope.

It was a sign that she would die.  
She wouldn't have the will power to tell herself to resist anymore, at that point. When she would stare at the light cascading her brother's face, she swore his eyes held horror in them. Clary would then feel her arms lift themselves above her. She'd feel herself kneeling to the ground. And indefinitely, the tears would stop. She'd see Jace in her head; she'd see him lying dead on the pavement—and she knew she was to be blamed. She'd see her life without him and see nothing but a void and empty space.

And before Clary could even wonder where those thoughts stemmed from, her own hands would drive the rugged stone through her throat.

And like a live wire was attached to her dreams, Clary would then wake up, screaming.

* * *

The Penhallows' living room never had an air so hostile until now. And Jace was pretty much the main contributor to the atmospheric heat. Everyone had gathered together after Jace carried Clary unto Isabelle's bed and told her to sleep. Before that, Jocelyn had used her stele to break Magnus' stairs-spell when she saw Jace attempting to climb it the first few steps, then falling down painfully on his side, then up he went again. The commotion had attracted attention, and soon, everyone in the wedding planning brigade raced up the stairs, following a hysterical Jace; the rest of the events passed by in a blur of worry.

It was late around 2 in the morning and Maryse, Jace, Alec, Magnus and Jia Penhallow were seated randomly on the couches. Jocelyn went left to find Luke and Amatis went with her.

"Clary can't go to the wedding in that condition!" Jace tried very hard not to yell. Completely failing at that, he sat down grumbling to himself when Maryse shot him a look.

"Even though that is true, Jace—" she said, though what she really wanted to say was _Mind your tone with me, young man. _"I'm sure Clary, will never allow us to prohibit her from helping in her own mother's wedding."

Jace looked ready to combust. "This is not about her _allowing_ us to do what's best for her." he stated irritably, but he knew better not to yell this time.

"Jace, I understand your concern." Maryse said gently. Well, as gently as Maryse can. "But Clary is a very unique shadowhunter. I even imagine she could be one of the most talented since—since Valentine." She hesitated at the last word, like she was afraid he'd come back from the dead if she said it out loud. "But there are things we cannot hide from her; some things we cannot protect her from. And despite Clary's current condition, I believe she is handling this very well."

She stopped to look at Jace and the boy looked as if he was just slapped in the face. Thrice. And in addition to that, he looked ready to bang his head (or somebody else's) on a nearby wall.

Maryse flinched. "Ok, well, maybe not entirely all that well. But my point, Jace, is that Clary may be going through hell right now… and she'll need you—she'll need everyone who cares about her. What she won't need is for us to make her own choices for her. Even if we feel that it's for her own good."

Jace kept silent for a few counts, but when he brought his eyes up to meet Maryse's, they looked tired and unconvinced.

"So that's it then? We're just going to let her wake up tomorrow and for the next week, like nothing horrible is happening? Like she isn't being disturbed by demonic forces that go bump in the night?"

Jace got up from the couch violently, almost knocking over the center table. But before he could continue whatever he was going to say, a voice from the far end of the room spoke amazedly, "You sound just like your father."

Jace didn't turn to acknowledge the person, but Maryse, Jia, Alec and Magnus spoke her name a-matter-of-factly. The voice was Jocelyn's.

"Like Valent—oh," Alec said, and then quickly decided he should've kept his mouth shut. "You mean Stephen Herondale."

Jocelyn nodded slightly, and Amatis turned toward the kitchen to fix everyone something to drink. There was a sound of a knock on the door, in the distance.

"Both actually." Jocelyn said to no one in particular. "You have that determined and hard voice just like Valentine—but they only mask the true concern and protective nature you have inside. I'm very lucky that you love my daughter Jace, and that's the only reason why I even trust you."

Jace remained still. And for this moment, not even Amatis' entrance in the room was minded; not even the breathing patterns of the people around him; not even the infuriating sound of the door being knocked at fazed him. Jace's senses only took in whatever Jocelyn said, and hung on to every word as if it was something very precious.

"A boy like you is dangerous, Jace—I don't disapprove of both of you, at all… but I see too much of her father in you."

The door kept on whining, and it was Maryse who jumped from her seat and with an unfriendly look in her eye, left the room to answer it.  
She mumbled something that sounded like "buttercup muffins".

"Your heart is in the right place, Jace—and believe me, I know doing what's best for her may seem like a good idea in the long run…" Jocelyn continued. "And I know better than anyone how horrible that plan backfires. I admit, it was a huge mistake for me to keep this, this _world_," She was referring to the Shadowhunter world. "a secret from her. They weren't my memories to take." Jocelyn now walks up to him, and places a hand on his shoulder.

"And Jace, they aren't yours to take either."

It seemed to sink in his brain this time, because when Jace turned around to look at her—he did look less hostile now. A heavy weight must have been lifted from his shoulders or something, because in the light of the room, he seemed younger, though very pale and sad.

"I'm not dangerous. But I'd be lying if I said I was absolutely nothing like Valentine." Jace didn't look at her when he spoke. Somehow, it was better that way.  
"Is it really so wrong to wish she forgot everything again? As selfish as it sounds, it would make my life so much easier."

When Jace let out a scoff, Jocelyn smiled. Gently, she patted his shoulder before going over to a couch. And slowly, the world seemed to fade in to focus again. Jace could hear the clattering of cups, the whispering people, and the crickets outside in the dark.

He looked across at Jocelyn who was now sitting beside Amatis, who was making conversation with Jia. Magnus and Alec were talking amidst themselves and occasionally, one of them would look into the direction of the room upstairs.

_They were probably thinking of a way to keep her safe too_, Jace figured.

"Jace," When Jocelyn called his name, Jace snapped back into attention. This time, her smile was jolly and even exuberant. "I was thinking—since you're going to be the one to play the piano in the wedding—I wanted a sort of different tune when I say my vows. Sure—it might spark a few nerves at Reverend Tom—and possibly get ourselves a heaping sack of disapproval and lecture… but—"

"I'll do it." At least there was something Jace could say 'yes' to on the spot. Unlike saying 'yes' to leading Clary to believe that her life was just normal, pissing off Tom was like asking him if he wanted a million dollars.

"What should I learn to play?" Jace asked.

Jocelyn beamed. "_Love is a Many Splendored Thing_ by Sammy Fain."

A smile crept up Magnus' face, making his eyes look extra shiny.

"From the 1955 film with the same title?" he stated more than asked.

Jocelyn twirled to look at him; her brows quirked in surprise. "Why, Magnus—I'm surprised you know it!" Her eyes shone with amazement. "It's a pretty old movie."

"Well, I am _pretty_ old." He said in response, and he lifted his brow as if trying to say _You forgot I was around a few thousand years old, didn't you?_

Jocelyn only laughed.

"Oh of course!—_warlock_ and all that. Sorry, sometimes I forget." She flashed him one apologetic smile before turning her attention to Jace again.

"So will you do it?" The words were mature, but don't let that fool you; she sounded like a pleading child.

Jace looked at Magnus Bane, who was playing with Alec's head. Magnus caught him staring, and looked at him straight in the eyes—gold to gold, they were.

Magnus broke eye contact, a grin set on his face. "It isn't a hard song to get, stupid shadowhunter. Very passionate—but sweet; I suppose there will be no lyrics since it'll just be the background music for your wedding, Jocelyn? The words are just as vital as the sound—but if you can pull off a number solely with a piano… then I'd be greatly impressed."

Before Jace could say anything, Luke Garroway walked into the room looking relieved.

"I just came from upstairs. She's asleep." he said. It must have been him at the door, pounding like a hell-raised demon, then.

"That's good." Jocelyn winked at Jace, mentally telling him the conversation about the music in the giving of vows never happened; and one tense expression telling him not to mention anything about how they agreed that they weren't going to give Clary any special treatment.

Jace could live with the first one; but the second one kept on pushing at him until he broke.

"Luke, do you think Clary will be safer in an environment where she's busy, stressed and tired when you saw her there, lying limp and pale?"

(And the air of hostility returns after a brief 5 minute interval of normal conversation.)

Luke spoke to Jace like he was speaking to an adult. And legally, in shadowhunter law, Jace was an adult, so it fit.  
He didn't walk towards him; instead Luke contented himself to standing by the door frame.

"Answer me." Jace didn't take silence as a valid reply, apparently.  
"I don't really think I'm authorized to speak about Clary's well-being, Jace."  
"Exactly—she's very—"  
"—Tired?" Luke moved toward the couch now. He passed by Jocelyn, and smiled at her. Jace didn't catch them exchanging hidden messages or coded stares. But he heard Luke beckon him to sit beside him on the couch.

When Jace moved there, he caught one look at Luke's steady eyes, his adult-like poise and his strained expression and he knew that he would not be an ally to him. He sided on letting her be tortured daily.

And this made him ten times madder because a few seconds ago, he honestly let himself hope that Luke might be in it with him about this.

"I don't understand you." He let out more venom in that than he intended. "You know she's being tormented. You know how this is like nighttime-hell in Clary land. You know how horrible it's going to end up if she continues to get these nightmares and participate in a wedding at the same time! She'll never get enough sleep! She'll be an empty, lifeless, shell! She'll—"

"I locked the door already. Lucian—Amatis and Jocelyn—you all can stay here for the night, if that's alright with Jia. Is it? Yes, it is." Maryse walked back into the room oblivious to whatever tension existed there.

"Hmph. It's early in the morning and everyone needs sleep—I don't care what you all need to argue about, but the bride needs to sleep, children need to sleep, I need to sleep, We all—" The door clattered again; someone was knocking at 3-something in the morning.

"—oh, for the love of all that is…" Maryse stalked back into the hall muttering about 'buttercup muffins' again.  
And in the course of Maryse's interruption and outburst, Jace forgot what he was going to say next.

Luke chose to grab the opportunity to speak.

"She's alright, Jace. For now." When Jace looked like he was about to protest, Luke held up a hand. It was one of the very few hands Jace actually considered respecting, so he shut up and let him talk.

"For now, she's asleep. But tomorrow she'll be up and about looking for something to do. Jace, Clary's protection has nothing to do with her participation in the wedding. If you love her, please don't take away something she loves. And if she loves you, which I suspect is true, then I don't think she'll have any reason to want to leave this world early." He smiled.

"She's a fighter Jace. She has a lot to live for. Not just you, but her mother, her friends, and myself." He let down his hand, but nobody snatched the moment to speak from him.

"I am not agreeing to let her continue living a suffered life, Jace—I'm agreeing to let her live whatever life she has the way it's supposed to be lived." But ever so slowly, he turned to look at Jocelyn, a small sympathetic smile on his face.

"But it wouldn't hurt to interfere a little—regarding her workload… right dear?"

Jace looked up, and saw Luke, the big strong werewolf pack leader, trying to appear tamed and cuddly so he could get his fiancée's approval.  
And though technically, they were flirting, Jace didn't even feel that grossed out since a huge portion of why Luke was doing this was because of him.

Luke, in his own way, managed to satisfy both sides of the party—with harmony and good verdict. Jace found this a highly admirable characteristic, but the old man still looked gross when he was pretending to be a soft teddy bear.

Jace would never buy it, but Jocelyn did.

"Alright, already. But as long as it doesn't entirely make her feel left out. I don't want my daughter alone and secluded on the best day of my life!" Jocelyn put it at that. Luke glanced at Jace and gave him a thumbs up.

Jace mirrored him, but he mouthed the words 'that was disgusting'. Luke laughed at that.

"So, I suppose that's it then?" It was Jia Penhallow's first words since the conversation started. It was right, in a way. She didn't have much in connection with Clary—so the degree she was affected upon by the circumstance would only be limited to concern.

"Yes." Jocelyn stated firmly, her eyes passing Amatis, Jace, Luke, Jia, and finally Magnus and Alec. "This conversation is closed! Now, for more matters about the Reception proper—"

"NO! I ORDERED THE LILY ENSEMBLE! No—do gardenias strike _you_ with an Oh! They just got married vibe? I thought not. You'd better do something about this Mr.—what's your name?—Ted. TED! You'd better do something about this atrocity before I drive my blade into contents of your stomach! Keep running! You'd better bring me back my Lily Ensemble when you get back—you'd better, or your whole company is going to be sorry the day they decided to con Maryse Lightwood out of what she _specifically_ ordered! And take your silly flowers with you!"

A door slammed. Everyone was still when Maryse entered the small living room. Everyone looked shocked and bowled over; Maryse was just angry.

She held up her I-don't-want-to-talk-about-it hand (aka left) and walked over to take a seat beside Jia, whose mouth was slightly open.

"Well then," Jocelyn spoke, sounding terrified but at the same time as if she wanted to giggle at Maryse's fickle nature. "It's agreed—tomorrow we treat Clary as normally as humanly possible—but we watch over her." She turned to Luke and Jace. "And make sure she can still cope with whatever task she's assigned to do. Make sure she doesn't get too tired or to weary, as well. Agreed?"

Jia nodded, as well as Amatis.

Magnus said, "I believe in Clary—though many times, she doubts my wonderful fashion choices."

"Everyone doubts your fashion choices. Everyone except yourself." Alec told him.  
"Chairman Meow doesn't doubt me."  
"He's a cat."  
"A cat with very good taste in fashion."  
"He's a _cat_."  
"Alec, dear, what _is_ your point?"

Alec looked at him, his eyes bulging. In finality, he just raised his arms as if giving up. Magnus found the gesture amusing and imitated it. Alec turned away, mumbling… but a smile was making its way to his face.

"Well, Alec and I agree—hands down!" Magnus said with a delightful smile.

"I agree, as well." Luke raised his hand, and then looked at Jace who had his arms crossed.  
"Jace?" he prompted.

Jace looked at him, then at Jocelyn, then at Magnus, then at Jia trying to calm down Maryse.

"I'll abide by its restrictions." _Can't take the course of Clary's life into his own hands, etc etc…_ "But forgive me—" he said it directly at Jocelyn and Luke. "I may never be able to accept the idea that we won't be doing anything to keep her safe."

Jocelyn looked content with his answer, but slightly saddened as well. Luke even more. But they decided not to say anything about it.  
"Well… that's it then. What now?" It was Alec.

"Honestly—_gardenias_?" Maryse said the word like it was a disease.

* * *

**A/N:** Does anybody have any ideas on what i should change my user name to? :D


	11. Chapter 9

**A/N**:

CHAPTER 8~ yeaaah; changed alot of stuff there. :)  
lotsa comments bout how Magnus' age was inexact, and some say its 900..some more than a thousand. o.O

the guilt was eating me up inside.  
So i did the reasonable thing and GOOGLED it :D  
and for the 3rd time since the World War...the internet has failed me :((:(( (waaaaah)

I didnt get to come up with the exact age of Mr. Bane..so i just changed it to _a few thousand __  
_Is that ok with you guys? :( im really sorry for that.

Yah..that chappie is really tense; i didnt mean for it to and now that i redid it, i noticed i must have been in a really crappy mood when i made this. SERIOUSLY. im so EMO. o.o (hopefuly im not emo anymore.) and hope that you guys read and review it again (the new edited one ;)) and tell me if it got less confusing.

So sorry for constant TENSE CHANGES too (this applies to all previous and coming soon chapters) ... grammar isnt really my forte. *bows to you all*

But anyway, i finally beat my 3 month hiatus streak :D that IS TOTALLY not a good thing though o.O

So hope you guys havent forgotten this story yet (or if you did, then i only have myslef to slap~ ) and that you guys love nuff to review me! :D (i wont update at all without those little things! soooooooooo best be clicking that ye'r button :D)

If you guys love me for the humorous banter, the Rev. Tom bashing, and for all those wonderful moments where Chairman Meow was compared to Alec~ then read on to glamours CHAPTER 9! :D

* * *

**Glamours;  
**_a spell or energy of illusion used to hide or disguise beings._

At around 7 30 in the morning the next day, Clary rose from Isabelle's bed with a terrible headache—Which wouldn't be surprising since she only had 2 or so hours of peaceful uninterrupted sleep—and absolutely no memory of the preceding night.

The only thing she remembered was the Magnus Make over session because she noticed that she never had the chance to change out of Magnus' little outfit. She hardly cared though. She stepped into the fluffy slippers and dragged her tired feet down the steps the way a dinosaur might do so.

When she got to the kitchen, the sight shocked her so hard she almost hit the door frame, head first. Amatis was situated in front of the old stove, holding a ladle and stirring like she was something from a Martha Stewart episode.

Maryse was the picture of happiness as she fluffed a bunch of lilies that were already put into neat rows. She was humming a nice working tune while doing it, making Clary both suspicious and freaked out.

"Clary!" Clary heard her mother's voice call from behind her. "Good morning, dear!"  
Jocelyn gave Clary a peck on the cheek before walking over to Maryse, handing her a brown envelope.

"These are the invitations. I checked to make sure the names of those in the entourage were spelled correctly and already put who the invitation is addressed to at the back of each envelope." she said.

"Good, let me just wash my hands first—so that the envelope doesn't get wet." With that, she moved to the next room. Jocelyn went back to the living room to fix what she called "a mess".

Clary didn't say a word but chose to sit down in one of the chairs. A minute later, a plate with five layers of pancakes was dropped right in front of her. Apparently, she was expected to eat all it.

"Amatis, I don't think I could seriously finish ALL of this…" she tried to protest.  
Amatis cocked her head to the side. "You need a lot of strength in order to cope with all the preparations today. Hectic day, it is. We do first rehearsals and everything! Without food, your stomach may recede."

"Yeah, but with too much of it, it may explode!" she reasoned out, but Amatis was already mixing cake dough to make more pancakes.

Clary was halfway through the third pancake when thumps from upstairs sounded. A while later, a golden haired Alec and an amused Magnus walked in the kitchen. Magnus was wearing a bathrobe that could have been mistaken for the butchered skin a wooly mammoth that died in a pit of glitter.

"Alec—uhm, what happened?" Clary was happy to bring up a question—any excuse to give her stomach a rest from chewing was gladly accepted..  
Alec looked at her miserably. "It's my fault—I never should have asked him to hand me some shampoo when I was in the bathroom." He ran his fingers through his hair in vain.

Magnus slid beside Clary and Amatis dropped a plate of pancakes in front of him as well. He smiled as a form of thanks.

"You should have told me you were allergic to my Warlock shampoo. I only wanted to share with you some of my beauty products so you could get all that untamed hair in check, Alec dear." Magnus said, calmly.

"That shampoo was a mixture of different warlock potions and demon blood! It's pretty much dangerous to every other living creature!"

"Chairman Meow doesn't seem to show any negative effects from using it." Magnus retreated into his Chairman Meow cover just to taunt Alec.

Alec's eyes went huge and he looked like he was about the throw up.  
"You test your shampoo on cats?" he exclaimed. "That's animal cruelty."

"Now, Alec—all these thoughts on reformation are only taking effect because of the shampoo. They give shadowhunters a sort of liberal spirit—it usually doesn't last long, but you have to be careful not to do anything stupid."

"Animal cruelty is just one thing—what about the _economy_?" he exclaimed.  
"Uhm , what about the economy?" Clary asked, unsure for Alec's stable mental disposition.

"It is unfair and pretty much corrupt! Where are the equal rights in this nation? Don't we all have the right to protest against the imbalance of VAT and taxes?!" Alec roared into a plea for a reform movement.

Magnus clapped his hands, obviously amused. "That's great, Alec! Why don't we protest right now in the bathroom when I wash all that gold and nonsense out of your head, hm?"

"Alright." Alec said firmly. "Just let me go get my campaign posters."

Magnus rose from the table, his food untouched.  
He turned to Clary, and flashed her a toothy grin.  
"Oh, finish that for me, Clary-love. Seems like such a waste to just throw it away."

In Clary's mind, she was throwing daggers at Magnus' retreating form but she took his plate anyway, and began chewing angrily.

"Ah, always a treat to see young people who don't sacrifice their meals for the sake of diets."

Clary looked up and saw Luke smiling down at her. He had worn his casual clothing, which gave Clary the impression he must have been up for hours already, and clipped to his left arm was a newspaper.

"No, I'm stuffing myself with food for winter. Hibernation" Clary stated, stuffing another bite into her mouth.  
Luke let out a nice laugh. "Well, if the hibernation doesn't get to you—the calories will."  
Clary groaned. "Everyone is out to get me today."

Luke smiled one last time, then he proceeded to open his paper and read the news.

Clary almost found this picture like a regular family morning. Someone was cooking breakfast on the stove, the father would be reading the sports section of the paper and kids would be consuming their cereal and then heading off to school with lunch boxes that match their uniforms.

Well, Clary's never had a uniform to be matched to before and Luke wasn't reading the sports section—he was playing the crossword—so it didn't count. But it made her think.

Her life would be something similar to that idea—if she had remained in the illusion of being a mundane. Would she still be able to do all that she'd done now if she had remained blind to the magical world?

Clary refused to think of it so she threw it at the very back of her mind. She wouldn't want to change the course of her life since she liked it the way it was—dangers, and all. She was happy to train as a shadowhunter and she loved this world where magical beings exist.

She couldn't imagine herself going back to being an average mundane anymore. She belonged in this world, and she was determined to stay in it.

"Seven letter word for close family member…" Luke muttered. "Mother? Cousin? Father?"

Clary rolled her eyes. She knew the answer. "It's _Brother_." she said.  
Clary gasped suddenly. Her breath got caught and felt a little light-headed. She remembered the dream she kept having—and her mind replayed it in perfect detail. The thought had left her alone for a few hours, but now that she recalls it, she can't help but feel goose bumps all over. She had died in her dream; more specifically, she had killed herself.

"Brother!" Luke's voice brought her back into reality before she could spiral into a hell within her own mind. "B-R-O-T-H-E-R. Good job, Clary!"

Luke didn't seem to notice that she was sweating all over or that she seemed to be shaking from head to toe. Clary rose from the table and excused herself. She was walking up the flight of steps when she caught Jace at the intersection.

And despite herself, she couldn't help but look.  
His hair was wet and tousled. He wore a plain black shirt and jeans with sneakers. Clary noted that his jacket was slung over his left shoulder and his eyes were fixated on her.

"Uhm, morning, Jace." Clary tried to sound normal.  
"What's wrong?" he said, his eyes still staring into hers.  
"_'Morning Clary, did you eat breakfast yet?_'" Clary tried to crack a pun out of him, but something was off about Jace today—which was more than his _usual_ off-ness.

He beckoned to the upstairs. "You going up to rest?"  
"… just… gonna… fix my stuff." Clary tried to formulate a sentence. "Take a bath and freshen up. Change out of Magnus' costume. Wedding stuff today—don't want to be tardy."

Jace didn't nod but he moved to the side to let her pass, then when she was 4 steps above him, he went directly down without even a glance.

Clary couldn't understand what was wrong with him—she didn't understand anything, anymore. She walked solemnly past the bathroom where she could hear squeals from Alec as Magnus sprayed warm water into his head and washed the chemicals away. She entered Isabelle's room, closed it shut, then sat on the floor, rubbing her temples.

"How could I have forgotten about that dream?" Clary wondered out loud. Her head was throbbing but she could distinctly remember that just a few minutes ago she wasn't even sure what happened after the Magnus Make Over session. It had all seemed to black out of her mind—and the next thing she knew, she was waking up and going down to eat breakfast.

_'My brother is alive.' _Clary didn't dare say it out loud.  
She crawled to the foot of Isabelle's bed and rolled herself up into a ball. She tried to rack her brain for something, anything, in relation to what happened last night.

She processed that Magnus made her change into a ridiculous outfit and that Alec was also a victim—Jace was downstairs, and earlier in the afternoon, he had confessed to making a piano piece for her. Clary even remembered how angry she was when she thought _Carina_ was a real person. She remembered every detail about the wedding, her conversation with Aline, Amatis being weird, her first thoughts about Amatis and Stephen, Simon and Izzy leaving—no memory, no thought was tampered with in her mind. But whatever happened in between her dream and waking up remained undeterminable.

A knock came at the door, and though the voice was muffled, Clary was sure it was Jace's.  
"Coming," Clary stood up and unhitched the lock.  
Jace slid inside carrying a tray holding, you guessed it, pancakes.

Clary couldn't decide where she should stare at—Jace or at those wretched pancakes.  
"Amatis wanted me to bring these up to you. You only ate three pieces." He placed the tray on the floor then sat, cross-legged, in front of it. "You aren't eating that well."

"My head has been hurting." Clary remained standing.  
Jace looked up at her, his eyes searching for something.

"Eat." He simply stated.  
"Only if you do too."

He took a fork and pierced a pancake with it—and in three bites, he finished one. (three bites for Clary wouldn't even be equivalent to two thirds of one pancake)

He stabbed another pancake with the fork again, and pushed it up towards Clary.  
"Say, Ah." he said.

"I'm full, Jace." Clary was a little confused how he could have been so indifferent a few minutes ago, and now he's all Mr. Sweet again.  
"Jace, are you bipolar?" she blurted.

"Am I what?" The question seemed to strike his interest.

"Are you—bipolar? Two separate personalities that come out once in a while…"  
He smiled into the plate. "What made you say that?"

Now Clary felt stupid. "It's nothing—it's just that you were so upset this morning and then now, you—well, you aren't. I don't know what to think except that you're bipolar."

He laughed then; a small polite laugh that made Clary's knees tremble.  
"I'm sorry to disappoint you—but I'm not bipolar." He smiled up at her then. "And I'm sorry for the terrible way I acted this morning. I—uh, Alec has some problems coping with some … 'treaties'."

"Jace, are you hiding something? What is—" Jace stood up and held her shoulders.  
"… we really shouldn't be talking about this… just let it go, ok? It's not imp—it's ok now. Nothing bad is going to happen."

Clary looked confused. She was. "I don't understand any of it."  
Jace's eyes looked sadly at her. And he used that same expression again; like he was searching for something in her eyes.

* * *

Clary was happier for the rest of the day—except for the part where Reverend Tom began pulling an all out assault on them. He had thrown a huge fit about the arrangement and the lines and the way people marched. As the flower girls paraded down the isle, they looked more like a military platoon rather than a bunch of exuberant children throwing petals everywhere.

Jace had been pleasant most of the time, but only until Clary starts to show signs of being tired or having a headache. Then he sort of has this demonic look in his eye that would give anybody an impression that he wanted to pick a fight with them.

So Clary tried hard not to look droopy or in pain—and it wasn't seriously that hard. Seeing her mom so happy (disregarding Reverend Tom, she was happy) and everyone thrilled about the wedding fueled her energy and made her stronger. Jace was also acting very oddly.

Tom had scolded him more than thrice in an hour because he kept leaving his post to sit beside her—and though it pissed one person off very greatly, it made Clary all giggly.

NOT in the sense that she was giggly about Jace—ahem—but because of the humorous repartee that Jace would always have prepared just in case Tom says a punch line.

It was near lunch time when Jace and Clary were walking down the path that led back to Amatis' house. Jocelyn had given Clary instructions to stay with Amatis for awhile—or go and work on her speech for what she should say during the reception. Clary had this strange feeling that everyone was trying to hide something from her, but she didn't give it much thought. As of the moment, she was only working on her opening lines which only consisted of the sentence: _Everyone, good morning. Is this microphone on?_

It was a work in progress; she was getting there.

Jace was walking beside her, totally oblivious to the weight of the huge sack of manure being balanced on his shoulder. Maryse had told him to bring the manure over to Amatis' house so they could fertilize the plants she had been growing for some time now.

As they walked, they talked.

"Jace, can I talk to you about something?" Clary asked.  
"I'm not objecting." he replied.

"I know you're a little touchy about this but—just tell me," Clary tried to see if his expression changed. "What happened last night? Please Jace."

He didn't stop in his tracks; he didn't have a horrid expression on his face; Jace was completely composed and by this, Clary knew, that he wouldn't tell her _exactly_ all she needed to know.

"You told me Sebastian was alive. That he was going to use your body to kill me and everyone else" His voice was factual, but by the way his mouth creased downward made Clary think that it wasn't all that black and white. "Then you blacked out on me—sending me into a series of cardiac arrests."

"Sorry," Clary said without redemption.

"And well—that's it. I carried you to Izzy's bed and let you sleep. They called up Luke, let him know you and the others would just spend the night at the Penhallows'."

"I don't remember that."  
"I don't remember ever agreeing to carry this bag of dirt—yet here I am now."

Clary pushed him to the left, which made him partially lose his balance.

"Idiot," she laughed. "They don't mean the same thing."

"They don't have to."  
"That didn't even make sense."  
"It doesn't have to."

Clary pushed him again and this time he had to secure the manure with both his hands just to make sure it wouldn't fall.  
"Hey—you almost dropped the manure!" Clary exclaimed.

"And who's fault is that?" he countered.  
Clary laughed and they proceeded to walk again. They had already reached the outside of Amatis' small cottage when Clary began saying something again.

"I remember something from a dream, Jace." As Clary spoke, Jace had turned to set his full attention to her.

"Jonathan—his hair really black in the dark—was surrounding me in fire, and he looked really scary. He had this weird look in his eye and he was disheveled with tracks of blood across his face." Clary left out the part where she saw Jace's dead corpse in front of her.

"His dark hair, being all messy and everything was—"

"Wait, I hate to break it to you Clary, but…" Jace said, careful with his words. "Sebastian—Jonathan—he has golden hair." He said while they walked alongside each other along the pathway to the door.

"White gold; not black." Jace corrected.  
"What are you talking about Jace—I saw Sebastian ok, I was there and clearly, he had black hair—"

"Clary," Jace took her shoulders and forced her to look at him in the eye. His eyes grew silver in light of the glass window. "Clary," his voice sounded gentle, like a doctor giving news to a mother that her child had just died.

"That was only dye. He has nearly the same gold white hair as Valentine. I saw him when he wasn't wearing his disguise. It was the last thing I saw each time I fainted from his blow."

Clary's eyes casted toward a bare spot in Amatis' garden. "You never told me that you fainted." That you got hurt, more like it.

"I didn't want you to worry." He tilted her face forward. "It's done. Just forget about it."

Clary looked at his eyes again; still silvery as they tried to bribe her into believing him.

"I'll forget, as soon as you forget."

Jace let go of her. "Clary, that is entirely different. I'll never forgive him for torturing you—even if it is only in your dreams—if what you're saying is true and that he's back."

Clary walked forward, towards him—and she couldn't understand what her mind wanted her to say, but she blurted out the first sentence she could construct.

"But what if I'm wrong!"

Jace looked at her funny, and Clary later realized she must have sounded very strange. By the way she described him, she gave a full impression that Sebastian was back from the underworld to kill them all; that he wasn't dead, and he wanted revenge through her—and now she says she might be wrong, that all of this is just a cruel trick of her mind. Was this just a sign she was slowly losing it?

"Clary you don't make sense. At all." Jace said bluntly, and then kissed her forehead. A second later, Amatis opened the door. He dropped the bag of manure carefully beside the garden patch. He gave a small smile to Amatis, and then turned to go the opposite direction.

"I have to go run some errands. Luke told me to tell you that you should stay here for the remainder of the day. You need to rest." he said.

He was walking away again, but then he stopped mid way. He turned to look at her again, then he added "Go rest, please." very gently but Clary was so confused she couldn't say anything except "Yeah. Be careful."

And he was off.

* * *

**A/N: TENTATIVE: CHAPTER 9 PART 2**

Well, anywaaaaay..this took far longer than expected o.O  
This account has been dead for months. O.O  
And we all have only one thing to blame...  
SCHOOL.

Sorry for this --ehk-- awhile. *heee  
But same thing~ **no review no update! :D  
**And im thinking of changing my user name..any thoughts? :)


	12. Chapter 9 part 2

**A/N: **I decided to just make this part of chapter 9 since its too short to be a real chapter and i dont really know :) Thanks so much to the reviews, everyone! :D ill try to do better and make it less tense and all :)

as always, reviews are love and without love, the world doesnt go round and round (and neither does this story) so review review review and ill update update update :D

This is GLAMOURS CHAPTER 9 PART 2 and it doesnt do much but go more into Clary again. (im trying to make it less dull, but in this part of the story, its mostly all narrative because i need to express Clary's feelings alot. o.O)

damn, this is becoming really long! hehehe

anyway, hope you guys like this chapter :D Read and review, but for now, REAAAAAADD~

* * *

**Glamours;**_  
a spell or energy of illusion used to hide or disguise beings_

Apparently, when Jace said Luke wanted Clary to stay in Amatis' house for the rest of the day—he was actually planning on putting her there indefinitely; for the whole week, anyway.

Clary had the presumption everyone was up to something she did not understand, and as every day passed, she felt more and more agitated.

There were only less than two weeks left until the wedding, and everyone was buzzing; getting final preparations done, fixing the order of every little detail in the wedding reception and Clary was stuck at home, washing dishes for Amatis, or sitting down and doing nothing.

Clary often found herself sitting in front of Amatis' old coffee table, a pen at hand in case a thought for her speech for the reception would come (Clary wouldn't dare forget the speech she would have to make for her mother and Luke, welcoming them into life as a married couple), while staring with a fixed expression of confusion at the blank piece of paper spread out.

"You know that paper won't write itself, nor will it feel compelled to crumple into dust no matter how hard your gaze is" A voice bellowed from nearby.

Jace was a regular visitor of Clary's. He usually came around after lunch time, carrying a massive bag of fertilizer; he claimed it was something he enjoyed. But Clary knew better than to not assume that Jace must have bargained with Luke again. Negotiating with Jace so he could come see her each day, and torturing him while doing so, was one of Luke's minor hobbies.

Jace dropped the bad of poop outside in the garden before coming inside the small cottage. Wiping his feet on the rug, he walked over to the coffee table and peeked at Clary's paper.

Clary instinctively folded it, to save her the humiliation of letting him know she didn't have a single thing to say to them, and rose so that she leveled with his chest.

"How are things going at the church?" Clary asked him.

He grimaced. "Aline fainted during the second fitting of her dress—wouldn't be surprising seeing as that she hasn't been eating a proper meal since that seamstress said she gained an inch."

Clary looked down, silently thankful that her dress was already fine and not open to any corrections.

"Anything else?"

"Mm, nothing much. They're all basically running around the church and the Great Hall looking and screaming about stuff." Jace shrugged, gesturing an _etc etc…_

_Clary sat back down, suddenly feeling very useless._

"Why can't I help?" It was supposed to be a rhetorical question, but Jace found an answer anyway.  
"You are helping." Dumb, for Jace's standards, but Clary couldn't find herself caring.

"How?" she spat. "By strutting down the isle a few times, then get sent home to continue my training to be a housewife? How am I helping, Jace?"

"By keeping yourself safe." Something about what Jace was saying made Clary even angrier. Her emotions felt like they were rising to the surface, slowly, transcending as if it were an attempt to breath air.

"Oh, you mean by keeping me locked in here." There. The words flew out before Clary could stop them. She read the plain hurt in Jace's face as he cast his eyes to the floor, and Clary felt immediately ashamed of herself.

"I'm sorry; I know it isn't your fault. It's this stupid speech." Clary lied. "I don't know what the hell I'm going to say—it's getting in my head. Here, look at it, have a laugh."

She handed him the folded paper, but Jace did not laugh. He was silent for a few minutes even as he took a seat beside her, in front of the coffee table.

"Jace—"

"You're right."

Clary felt relief surge into her. She didn't know what she was right about, exactly, but hearing Jace's voice was good enough as anything to her.

"Really, I'm sorry—this damn speech and its – "  
"You are being kept prisoner in here and you don't even know why. The only thing you know is that it's to keep you safe." Jace looked despondent.

"Jace… what…"

"Remember the dream you said you keep having? I've been thinking about it ever since you told me, and it's the main reason I keep coming here everyday, enduring the journey of carrying that sack of dirt, to check if you're still in one piece. Everyone is worried about you, ever since you collapsed in Isabelle's room and proclaimed that Sebastian was alive—surely, Clary, you wouldn't think that your family wouldn't want to protect you from what all this could possibly mean?"

Clary felt her stomach ease in. If the only reason they were keeping her in lock down was because of her own crazy dream that she could barely even remember, Clary wouldn't have it.

"Jace, don't trust me so easily. It isn't definite that the dream was true! I could be wrong, Jace! You could be worrying for nothing more than mass hysteria, for all we know!"

Jace touched her cheek and Clary felt the spot heat up immediately. The connection was so intimate Clary almost thought he was going to move in and kiss her.

"We can't continue denying this Clary." He moved closer to her, so when his voice dropped so she could hear his words more clearly. "Don't you trust yourself at all? After all we've been through, you know better than anybody what your own gut is telling you—Clary, if he is back, and it's true that he never died in the battle a year ago, then its better safe than sorry that we take precautions."

"I—Why—" Clary sighed, defeated, and just slumped so her head rested on his chest.

"I just want to do something." She whispered. "It's my mother's wedding, goddamnit. I want to do _something_!" Clary, despite her own anger, buried her head into Jace's chest and grabbed a fistful of his shirt.

"I doubt that antique coffee table could sustain both your weights. I mean, it is pretty old." A person said, amusement apparent in his voice.

Jace moved away from Clary while she jerked upright. Clary had no idea why she was so embarrassed, or why she was now fidgeting with her fingers a little.

Jace remained close but his eyes where no longer on her, but on the figure that leaned by the door frame.

Jace cleared his throat.  
"Relieved from wedding duty early, I see." Jace was patently attempting innocence.

"Well, when the priest starts threatening you with fists, you know its time to pack up and let your wife-to-be do the talking." Luke gave a hearty laugh, looking from Clary to Jace, then back.

"Hey, don't think I like running into both of you when you do… that. But you both make it way too easy." A grin was spreading itself across his face, and Clary turned a light shade of scarlet, while Jace's mouth twitched into a smile.

"You see, the trick is control. You can't just take each other on the floor—in this case, the table—anytime of the day."

Clary had every right to tell him they weren't up to anything dirty; that Luke had it wrong—but Jace had seen the challenge in Luke's taunts, and spoke first.

"Ah, age has given you wisdom." Luke caught the 'you're old' implication and only half-succeeded in grinning broadly. Something told Clary Jace would be carrying more than just dirty manure next time he came around.

Before Jace could fire something again, Clary smacked his leg, and he stopped, wincing.

"Luke, we weren't up to anything. Just talking." Clary shot Jace a warning look, but he just grinned at her.

"Ah, dismissing our love so eagerly, my dear." He said melodramatically.  
Clary hit him harder this time.

"Really. It's the truth Luke. Jace and I were just having a polite conversation."  
"Funny way of being polite you two have— huddled up there on the floor, collected into each other's arms. Totally polite, I don't know why I could've thought otherwise."

He turned to Jace. "I am sorry for accusing you, falsely."  
Jace replied, "Apology accepted."

Luke gave a light laugh before asking, "What were you two talking about then? Why was it so important to keep the conversation between just the two of you?"

All of a sudden, Clary felt Jace tense up and he replied defensively, "Clary was just showing me the speech she was going to say at the reception. We didn't want anybody to over hear it. It should be a surprise for you and her mother, after all."

Luke stared at the folded piece of paper on top of the table.

"Really? How far have you gotten through Clary?" Luke asked.

Clary was about to say 'not so far' but Jace answered for her.  
"She's still revising a few lines."

Clary tried to control the gape her mouth was making; Jace was obviously bluffing.  
He was also obviously hiding something from Luke. Luke chose to ignore the signs, though. He simply nodded understandingly.

"Ah, well, I'd love to see a few bits of it, but Maryse told me to pick up the arriving guests from other countries at the Gard—but I was allowed a short break." He smiled at Clary, and Clary already felt guilty.

"I came by to ask my dear sister if she'd let me take a bite out of those wonderful cupcakes I keep hearing about."

"Amatis is in the kitchen, if you're looking for her— or somewhere outside, tending to her garden, if she isn't there." Clary said.  
On cue, the back door creaked open then shut, and Clary saw Amatis moving into the living room, her gloved hands covered in dirt.

"Or she could be standing right there." Jace said, earning another smack at his leg.  
"Sorry about the gloves," Amatis fussed with them. "I tried washing the mess off, but they wouldn't come out unless I used soap."

She turned to her brother.  
"What can I help you with, Lucian?"

"Ah, well, I was hoping to get a taste of those cupcakes before you send them off, first. You know, ahem, to assure the safety of those who may consume it." Luke used the high and mighty voice. Jace rolled his eyes, and Amatis raised her brow—though both of them looked fairly amused.

"Alright, but only one cupcake. I haven't got the ingredients to make extras, yet." Amatis walked over to the kitchen, gesturing him to follow.  
Luke gleefully launched himself after her.

As soon as they were alone, Jace turned to Clary and whispered to her, "Luke can't know I told you, alright? I should only be making sure you feel comfortable and not suspicious during your stay here—"

Clary stared at his eyes, with quite an intensity, the gold in them almost burned.  
"How's that working for you?"

"Oh God Clary, sarcasm won't get you anywhere with me." He whispered further. "And keep your voice down."  
"Jace, just tell me why can't I do something to help with the wedding? I can keep myself safe, I—"

"I knew you would say something like that." He butted in, a whine in his voice.  
Clary felt the anger rise again. "Well, it's true! I'm not entirely disabled and if you keep me cooped up in here longer Jace, I swear I will—"

"These are delicious! Sister, I didn't know you cooked! Baked… whichever! Yes…I think this calls for a second round of inspection…" when Luke made an attempt to reach for another cupcake, Amatis slapped his hand away.

"Only one!" she scolded. "Here, take the rest of the batch over to the chapel for other Jocelyn. She'd want to taste them first, and I'll try to keep the sugar in check next time…"

Luke nodded, sadly taking the untouched cupcakes. He surveyed Jace and Clary.

"You two look a little flustered." Luke stated rather accusingly.  
"Great eye sight for an old fellow." Jace said.

Luke puffed out a laugh, and turned to his sister.  
"Mind if I take your manure-boy from your hands for a few hours?" Luke said, gesturing to Jace. (Jace scoffed when he said "manure boy")

When Amatis asked why, Luke answered, "Rev. Tom wanted him to go through the song selection again. He wants him to practice with a choir present, though we did try to persuade him that we'd like it simply instrumental—he was as hard as rock in his decision to put a choir." He turned to Jace. "Oh, and on the way, there's this nice pot shop we have to swing by—my old bones could really use a hand in lifting all those potted flowers for the Reception décor." Luke added, an evil expression his face. There was a heavy price for calling Luke Graymark an '_old man'_, after all.

Amatis nodded and walked over to the kitchen again, probably to wash her gloves.  
"Say good bye to Clary now." Luke said, slyly.

Jace turned to her and kissed her on the cheek. Clary was still unresponsive because of their heated argument awhile ago.

"Listen, I'll see you later, alright?" Clary looked at him, and saw he tried hard to make himself look slightly happy and she sighed.  
"Yeah, sure." When Jace was about to turn around and follow Luke, Clary said again, "Jace…"

He stopped half way, and turned to look at her again. He looked convincingly innocent and angelic.  
Clary sighed longer this time.

"Never mind… see you later." She finished.

Jace nodded solemnly then walked after Luke who was already by the door. As soon as they were clearly out of ear shot, Clary let out one giant groan.

"Ugh, _why does he always keep doing that_???!!"

Hitting the coffee table with her hands made a small thud, and Clary could tell by the pain that she'd see a bruise on her knuckles later on. But she was really too frustrated to care.

She was on the verge of letting out a monstrous yell when a voice said, "Something wrong dear?"

Clary didn't expect anyone to hear her; she had quickly assumed that when Jace and Luke went out, she would be completely alone with herself. She had completely forgotten Amatis was still in the house! Clary felt herself freeze over, and suddenly, what she was saying dawned on her. She must have sounded completely and out-of-control pissed—added to the embarrassment, she noticed that Amatis' old coffee table was limping slightly where she had hit it.

"Oh, I'm sorry Amatis—I'm fine, I was—I just—"

Amatis shook her head. "Oh, don't make excuses, girl." Clary wasn't sure she heard correctly, but Amatis sounded a little cold.

"I'm really, really sorry about the coffee table, Amatis… I didn't mean to, I was—"

"The coffee table? Oh…" Amatis's face looked punctured as she saw the table sway slowly.

Clary felt even worse now.

"I'm really really sorry, It—It was an accident."  
"I know it was, Clary." Amatis remained where she stood, her eyes still on the table.

After that neither of them said anything for awhile. They just stayed in place. Clary couldn't bear it, so she stood, but Amatis said something which made her resist running up the stairs and burying herself in embarrassment.

"You don't like being left behind in all the activities, and in my opinion, girl—you lasted a lot longer than I would have. You may have a temper—but you certainly know how to control and release it." She looked at Clary's folded piece of paper which held the contents of her speech (which was absolutely nothing.)

"There's nothing in there, is there?" Amatis almost sounded like she was laughing.  
"I don't have to tell you, do I?"

Amatis looked at her, and Clary gulped. But Amatis's eyes tilted upward and her mouth began to open… and then she began to laugh.

It was a wonderful sight, Clary thought. Amatis looked ages younger when she didn't look crestfallen or serious. She had the same nose as Luke, but prettier and smaller. Whenever her lips quivered, dimples would show on both sides of her face, and Clary thought, as a young girl, Amatis must have been a beautiful lady.

When she clearly sobered out, Clary was still there, staring at her.  
"I'm sorry," Amatis quickly composed herself. "I haven't had a good laugh in awhile."

Clary managed to smile timidly at her, and the atmosphere got less uncomfortable—but in turn became a little awkward.

She and Amatis never really spoke so much before.

"So, are the desserts for the wedding doing well?" Clary tried to change the subject of her partly destroying the antique coffee table.

Amatis nodded professionally. "Yes, I only need to make a few more batches of the butternut bars and the main courses aren't my problem yet, not until the eve before the wedding."

"Sounds busy."  
"I'm having the time of my life."

Clary laughed, for real. When Amatis looked at her, she almost looked kind.

"Do you, er, like to cook?" Amatis asked.  
Clary laughed. Her cooking skills weren't as good as any Five Star chef's but she was proud that, atleast, it was much better than Izzy's.

"I think Luke and Jace would make it a point that I'm totally undomestic. Simon would affirm it."

"It is…quite fun. When you have nothing to do…"  
"I'm listening."

Amatis laughed again. Clary could get used to the sound.  
"When you have nothing to do," she repeated. "I could—if you want—I could teach you. _If you want_."

"Is it ok with you?" Clary asked.

There was a glow in Amatis' eyes, Clary kept admiring.  
"It's nice to have some company."

Clary pretended to think it through, then smiled at Amatis.  
"I'll take it! Only if you teach me how to make those cupcakes!"

Amatis smiled, revealing those dimples again.  
"Alright then," She was hiding the pleasure and excitement in her voice, but Clary caught it.

"Alright then." Clary mimicked.  
"Well," Amatis said. "Do you know how to make the yeast?"

"No clue."  
"We'll have to work on that." Amatis beamed.

* * *

**FINAL A/N: **seeeee? im totally working on not making it all depressing :D yay! hahaha anyway, that's the update. :D Have to make chappie 10 eventually, and im hoping against all odds, i could finish it by this month :D (wish me luck)

constructive criticism is welcome, and also comments and insites too :D i enjoy reading those!

Oh, if you have a ffnet acc, i may reply to you (im going to try and open ffnet more often now...) im sorry for those reviewers i never got a chance to thank properly...so here, THANK YOU! -glomps you-  
I love your reviews so tell me if you think i need to improvise a few parts or fix a few crappy lines :) (lets not go to fixing the attitude of the characters. IM NOT CASSANDRA CLARE, so i dont need to go with the characters' REAL PERSONALITY if i dont want to :D)

Ok? im a FANFIC writer, not a god! (i cant please all of you :))

Well, this is where i stop, cya guys! :D -xoxo-


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